Back in the Closet
by kitsunekaino-mmerryddeath
Summary: Sequel to Detention in the Dungeons, available on our author page. Draco kidnaps Ron to a Broom Cupboard, and happenings ensue. Rated M due to boy-on-boy sex and non-con.
1. In which Draco is not a stalker

**Back in the Closet**

_Messrs KitsuneKaino and MmerryDdeath proudly proclaim that they have indeed been up to mischief! However, we do not claim any ownership of the "Harry Potter" series, the characters, or the settings. _

_Readers are warned that this fanfiction contains GRAPHIC boy-on boy action that is not strictly consensual, and they should not continue beyond this point unless they enjoy that kind of thing. It also contains one or two hexes, a bathroom and Blaise Zabini (A dangerous combination indeed). Enjoy at your own risk._

_Please note that this is a __**sequel**__! Read Detention in the Dungeons first!_

_Mischief Managed_

Draco Malfoy, ice prince of Slytherin, was watching Ron Weasley. It could have been called staring, if not for the fact that he was a Malfoy and staring was an undignified activity for a Malfoy to take part in. Cold, grey eyes dug into the redhead's back, and Draco allowed himself a satisfied smirk when the boy shifted uncomfortably.

Briefly, he glanced at the detestable toad of a woman who taught this class, his wand hand aching to hex her. It did not matter that she was, as his father had put it, 'useful to us'; Draco still loathed her. He shied away from the thought of exactly whom his father meant by 'us' and switched his attention back to the redheaded Gryffindor.

After the 'detention' last month, Ron had succeeded in avoiding him at every turn. The Malfoy heir would have been impressed, if not for the fact that it was highly irritating to have the Weasley continually slipping through his fingers. But not today. Today Ron was not slipping anywhere. He flashed a predatory grin, ignoring the prickling of his conscience. Said grin was still in place when the class ended and Draco calmly took his time packing away his notes and quills, his eyes twinkling in amusement as Ron bolted out of the room before anyone else was out of their seats: Ron had perfected the art of vacating the classroom in under 10 seconds. The Slytherin prefect remained unworried; he had had a month to figure out all of Ron's short cuts and knew exactly where the redhead would be.

Harry was perplexed by his friend's odd behaviour, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. The raven-haired Gryffindor adjusted his spectacles. He supposed Ron could tolerate Umbridge even less than he could. That made the most sense. Harry caught Draco smirking as he packed his books away. Well that confirmed things, didn't it? Running an irritated hand through his messy black locks, Harry decided to stick with that explanation and exited the classroom.

Ronald rounded a corner rather viciously and went straight through the Bloody Baron. The redhead hissed, his lips pinching into a tight line of discomfort as a feeling akin to that of having ice water dumped over your head washed over him.

"BLOODY H-"

"Baron ... to you ..."

The Slytherin's ghost sneered down at the boy and carried on his way. The freckle-faced youth slumped against the wall, near to a dusty, cobweb-coated suit of armour in the empty corridor. People still didn't really come up to the third floor. The suit of armour gave him the once-over quizzically with a rusty creak before returning to its previous position.

Draco sauntered around the same corner, expertly avoiding walking through the Bloody Baron and nodding politely to him in greeting. He scanned the corridor with grey eyes, suppressing a smirk as he noticed the freckled boy sitting on the floor. Stalking him had certainly paid off, as Draco could now accurately guess Ron's location at almost any time of day.

'Did I just think stalking?' Stalking was another thing on the list of "Things that Malfoys do not do". It was called researching your target.

The Slytherin proceeded up the corridor, sneering at the dust and cobwebs gathered on the floor and the suits of armour. A pair of spotless, suspiciously new-looking, prim, black shoes stopped in front of Ron, where he could just see them above his knees. Malfoy halted a few feet away from the slumped boy and made a show of surveying the surroundings. The Weasley's stomach sank. Malfoy's voice split the silence; Ron swore under his breath and hid behind his knees.

"I didn't realise just how much Hogwarts' standards have slipped,"

The Slytherin commented, eyes piercing the mess in the corridor before returning to Weasley's face.

"Although you seem quite at home here."

The blond left the statement hanging in the musty air, waiting for the redhead's reaction.

Even at the second comment Ron remained stationary, gripping his jeans a little tighter. If only he could just control himself, if only he didn't rise to the bait. Ron said nothing and did nothing – and tried to think of nothing too. His red ears told he hadn't quite managed that last one.

Draco raised an amused eyebrow as he was studiously ignored by the Gryffindor; although the boys flushed skin did not escape his notice. He couldn't say exactly why it was so much more fun to tease Ron than anyone else, but the blond could feel the slight tingle of excitement in his stomach. Perhaps it was because Weasley's reactions always outstripped anyone else's.

Draco brushed some dust from his shoulder and moved a little closer to the sulking redhead.

"Ignoring people is rude you know," he murmured, just loud enough that Ron would hear him.

Draco crouched down, careful not to let the cobwebs anywhere near his immaculate clothing. He leaned in, his mouth mere centimetres away from the furiously blushing ear.

"Perhaps I should deduct house points,"

Draco suggested

Fuming slightly, Ronald raised his blue irises to meet the cool grey ones of the Slytherin. His lips were a darker shade than the other boys and they peeled back with his speech, flashing his gritted teeth.

"Have I done something WRONG?"

Ron inquired, clearly emphasising his innocence, his voice laced with irritation and slight hints of malice.

Draco calmly looked back into Ron's furiously glaring eyes and raised a single eyebrow. Ron's face was so close, his breathing harsh. Draco unconsciously licked his lips as the blush crept into Ron's cheeks, remembering how he had flushed right down to his shoulders during sex. A tiny part of the blond's mind pointed out that he had strongly coerced the youngest Weasley boy into having sex with him, but that part of him was ignored. Malfoy's got what they wanted; guilt had no say in the matter.

The Seeker leant in a little closer, until their noses were nearly touching. He didn't break eye contact for even a moment.

"I don't know. Have you?"

His eyebrows quirked suggestively; he could practically feel the heat radiating from the other boys fury and it made every nerve in his body sing with tension, anticipation and a bizarre sense of enjoyment.

The Gryffindor glowered, clearly unamused. He stood clenching his fists, and looked down at Malfoy. He was about to cry, but he didn't think he was giving that much away.

"No, I haven't. And neither have Harry and Hermione. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop following me around. Because you ARE. I avoid you and you're always around. I hide in places where nobody ever goes, to be alone ... Moaning Myrtle's toilet ... the third floor corridor ..."

He gestured to the desolate hallway. Draco stood up during the redhead's tirade, and listened to Ron's outburst with a seemingly calm façade.

"And you're always bloody there! Just get AWAY from me and give me a fucking chance to forget anything ever happened. I'm not some crazy rich boy, I'm a normal skint bloke ..."

He flushed, losing some of his confidence.

"So just ... Stay away from me ... please..."

Draco could not help but be affected by the glorious boy in front of him. It truly amazed the blond how much one person could express and feel. Didn't all those outbursts make Ron tired? As always, there was the low buzz of contentment, and satisfaction that he had prodded the redhead into such a fantastic reaction. His heart had sped up a little, but he ignored it in favour of waiting a moment to see if Ron had truly finished.

"Well," he said.

"I'm sure that I didn't really need to know about your bathroom preference, although it is entertaining information to know."

Draco smirked a little at the still fuming boy then took one step closer, bringing them nearly chest to chest.

"Besides, I seriously doubt that you could forget our ... time together, short of obliviating yourself. In fact, I don't think you even really want to forget."

Ron scowled at Draco and still managed to look confused and lost at the same time. Satisfied that he had sufficiently embedded himself beneath the redhead's skin, The Seeker turned and walked straight out of the disused corridor, dropping a drawled

"so long Weasley" over his shoulder. Let the impetuous Gryffindor stew over that: it would make him all the less observant later, which had been the point of this encounter anyway.

What did Draco mean he didn't 'want to forget'? Ron leant against the wall again and slid his fingers into his hair, resting his forehead against his palms. Malfoy had since vacated his line of sight so he muttered his thoughts out loud:

"Why wouldn't I?"


	2. In which Ron gets back into the closet

_What did Draco mean he didn't 'want to forget'? Ron leant against the wall again and slid his fingers into his hair, resting his forehead against his palms. Malfoy had since vacated his line of sight so he muttered his thoughts out loud:_

"_Why wouldn't I?"_

Sometime later, after half an hour spent happily smirking and finally acquiescing to Blaise's (rather forceful) request to remove the irritating charm that had ensured the others boy's trousers tucked themselves into his socks, Draco exited the Slytherin Common Room for dinner in the Great Hall. The charm had been in action for approximately two weeks and had started the day after Blaise had attempted to kiss Ron. This coincidence had not been lost on the Italian boy, who took it as a warning from his long-time friend.

In all honesty, Draco felt nothing above slight annoyance towards Blaise, as he knew that people practically fell into his friend's bed (or up against a wall, into abandoned classrooms, into other peoples' beds) and that he relished a challenge. However, Draco had made it clear that Ron was his and any further attempts by Blaise would not be appreciated.

Blaise had shrugged and decided to go after someone else. After all, to him it was quite clear that there was more than mere possessiveness in Draco's feelings towards the Weasley boy.

They sat together in the Great Hall, Theodore Nott joining them later and entering into a discussion with Blaise about the legal rights of vampires. Usually, the Malfoy heir would have joined in the debate, but today he was busy scanning the Gryffindor table for a particular redhead. The blond had it on the best information that Potter had a detention tonight and, if all went according to plan, he should be able to catch Ron on his own.

Unknown to Draco, Theo and Blaise had halted their conversation due to his overly evil smile. Theo glanced between Draco and the Gryffindor table, understanding dawning on his skinny features. Blaise waved an elegant hand in front of the blond face then shrugged and returned to the conversation, while the icy Malfoy continued to smirk dangerously at the innocent Weasley.

"Ron!"

Hermione scolded, her upper lip curled in disgust. Ron glanced up, a bit of chicken hanging out of his mouth. He almost laughed: Hermione's scandalised expression was comically cute.

"Can you _please_ try not to eat like a troll."

The fiery Gryffindor rolled his eyes and carried on shovelling food into his mouth. The Weasley lingered in the great hall longer than usual this evening; he wanted a break from the after dinner ruckus in the common room. The plates in the great hall turned themselves over. Hermione had left a little earlier to get some studying done and Harry was having one last giggle at the hilarity of their conversation as he stood to go to his detention. Before he knew it he was alone on the Gryffindor table losing himself in his thoughts. It was only when he realised he was one of three individuals left in the hall that he decided he was just going to go to bed. On that note he stood and took the scenic route back to his dormitory.

Draco had already slid out of the Great Hall, waiting hidden until Ron exited the Great Hall. He expertly tailed his unsuspecting prey, and smirked happily when the redhead took a turn into a more abandoned part of the castle. The blond immediately moved ahead in his mind, working out the most likely route that Ron would take back to Gryffindor Tower. His lips quirked a little in remembrance of the day that he had discovered the location of Gryffindor Tower. It had been a small victory.

The blond decided that his best bet was the broom cupboard that was swiftly getting nearer. He realised that it lacked a certain elegance, but he could make up for that later.

'Thank Merlin for locking and silencing charms.' He thought.

The blond watched from a slight distance as Ron turned the corner into the corridor containing the aforementioned (and oddly spacious) broom cupboard. Draco quickened his pace, drawing his wand out of the holster his mother had bought him and concentrating.

The freckled boy was casually roaming the peaceful corridor when a closet beside him swung open ominously. He stopped walking and stared into its empty contents before hastily swivelling round to check if anyone was behind him, reaching for his wand. He really doubted it was anything to be worried about though. The Slytherin took advantage of Ron's momentary pause to catch up with the other boy. He grasped Ron's wrist, causing him to turn to face Malfoy. The action caused a slight imbalance, which Draco used to push the redhead viciously. Ron was shoved, bewildered, into the cupboard and moments later Draco had sealed the door with a locking charm and set up a silence around it. He allowed himself a grin and licked his lips. Draco had every intention of enjoying himself this evening.

By the time Weasley opened his eyes and regained his balance it was pitch black. Ronald panicked and fumbled for his wand.

"Lumos," he panted out.

His jaw dropped and he froze. Draco responded to Ron's expression of open-mouthed horror with a slight smirk. Ron didn't really know what to do. Be angry? That never worked ... For the moment he just gaped, the unpleasant feeling of butterflies in his stomach temporarily overwhelming him.

Malfoy cast a free-floating light spell that illuminated the cupboard, allowing him to better observe the boy who was swiftly becoming Draco's obsession.

The blond bent down a little, grasping Ron's wrist. The prefect from Gryffindor had already been in the process of getting to his feet when he was assisted roughly into a standing position. Ron looked at Draco unabashedly. He was begging himself to get angry and punch this rat bastard right in his perfect nose. He deserved it. But it was no good, the anger just wasn't there. He hoped it would come soon. 'Come on,' he thought desperately, 'piss me off like you always do...'

"The floor does not become you, Weasley," Malfoy stated, stroking the fingers of his left hand up the boy's neck to flick him under the chin, his eyes lazily surveying the form before him.

The snarky comments Weasley wanted were replaced with cool fingers sliding over his neck and cold eyes boring into him.

The Keeper noticed his heart hammering against his chest and averted his eyes from the other boy as he flushed pink and his knees began to shake nervously. The Seeker watched Ron's reaction with mild glee, his breath quickening as the redhead quivered. So distracted was Ron that his wand slipped from his limp fingers with a small clatter to the stone floor of the closet. Draco noticed, and felt his heart thud with anticipation.

At the echoed sound of wood hitting stone Ron's eyes darted in horror to his lost wand, which rolled away maddeningly. His pupils didn't linger there long, they almost immediately snapped back to Draco as his pale cool fingers ghosted over him. Still holding his wand in his right hand, Draco continued to stroke cool, slender fingers down Ron's throat and onto the top of his collarbone, devouring the other boy with demanding eyes. The redhead was pressing his back flat against the wall, as if he could go through it.

Malfoy slid his hand around to the back of the Gryffindor's neck. Abruptly he jerked Ron's head forward and kissed him. One semi-vicious tug was all it took and Ron was wide-eyed with his lips crushed against the Slytherin's Slytherin was practically consuming the Keeper's mouth, swiping his tongue over Ron's lips.

Draco wondered (vaguely) how come he hadn't noticed how oddly full they were before. Weasley made a noise of despair that sounded reminiscent of shouting into a pillow and pushed Draco's shoulders with both of his hands. The shoving was firm, but gentle, in an attempt to get him to stop without threatening him, and in a sort of breathless panic.

Intoxicated, the blond sucked Ron's bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled it. The Gryffindor shut his eyes firmly and let escape a shuddering whimper. The blond's fingers tangled into the redhead's hair, pulling him closer. Every single centimetre of Draco's body was alight and buzzing with the almost tangible need to touch, hold and possess the boy in front of him. Ron was in a panicked daze, he was frightened, dizzy, and his blood was pounding in his ears. He could only barely process that he was ashamed and disgusted with himself for putting up such a pathetic resistance. With a final gasp the kiss was broken off, leaving Draco with a glint in his eyes and a distinct lack of oxygen.

Weasley held Draco away from himself at arm's length, panting and blushing.

"D - ... Don't ..."

"Don't what, Weasley? One could almost imagine that you had never learnt to speak."

The jab was half-hearted at best, as Draco was still regaining his breath. Had he been a little less flustered he might have laughed at the way Ron was holding him at arm's length. The blond twirled his wand in his fingers, considering his next move whilst revelling in the redhead's panicked breathing.

Ron's eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"And anyone can see that you're thick in the head! You know what I'm talking about you great prat ..."

The Gryffindor flushed too, he had tried his best but anonymous emotions were replacing the anger he was so desperately trying to call upon. Draco raised an eyebrow and lounged back against the door to the cupboard.

"Oh do enlighten me, Weasley. Despite my superior Slytherin intellect, the thickness in my head is not allowing me to discern exactly what you are referring to. Please tell me."

The blond's words were laced with light sarcasm, although his face was the perfect picture of someone waiting to have a particularly interesting subject explained to them. Grey eyes gleamed as they fixed themselves on the redhead, and Draco was gritting his teeth with the effort that it was taking to draw this out rather than just jumping the guy. 'Patience,' he told himself. 'Patience is a virtue. Plus watching him panic is really fun.'

"Well? Are you going to tell me what you were referring to?"

Ron couldn't believe it ... Draco Malfoy was making fun of him ... completely taking the piss! When he was trying to be serious and very politely NOT pounding his perfect little powdered nose in. He probably would have second guessed his action if he had had any prior inkling to what would befall him in that closet later on. But having none of this knowledge, Ron Weasley just lost it.

The redhead violently slammed Malfoy against the large wooden door with one hand, lifting the other boy several inches off the floor by his robes. Draco winced in pain as his back came into sharp contact with the wooden door, forcing the air out of his lungs. He gasped, dragging oxygen back into his body with painful breaths. Weasley wrenched Draco's wand from his hand and flung it to the floor beside his own. Malfoy realised that there was an infuriated Weasley mere inches away from him. The fact that his feet were no longer in contact with the ground also occurred to Draco. However, the blond knew that the trick with being obeyed was acting as if disobedience was simply unthinkable. Failing that, blackmail was brilliant.

So the Slytherin summoned up his best Malfoy glare and looked Ron straight in the eyes. The taller prefect almost faltered at the ice cold glare but he held his ground. The thought that Ron's freckles were really cute crossed the Slytherin's mind fleetingly, then,

"Put me down this instant, Weasley," he demanded, his voice dangerously soft as he continued to dissect the other boy with his gaze.

"No ..." the redhead growled, adding his free hand to aid in pinning the Slytherin to the door more firmly.

"Not until you take me ... seriously ..."

The ludicrousy of what he was saying was dawning on him and in those few faltering seconds he allowed Draco's feet back on the floor. The blond maintained his glare and gave no indication that he had noticed that he was standing again. He raised an eyebrow, the glare morphing into a suggestive leer.

"I'll take you alright," he threatened, his voice light. The Gryffindor didn't really comprehend what Malfoy meant by 'I'll take you alright' or why it had been said the way it had. Then Draco narrowed his eyes, "and you really should unhand me. I believe it took a personal intervention on Professor McGonagall's behalf to have the Gryffindor team reformed last time. It would be such a shame if they were disbanded again."

Weasley's stomach sank into his shoes when Draco started talking about the Quidditch team blond leant forward a little, his tone low and threatening as he appraised Ron from underneath raised brows. "It would be insultingly easy to bring about, considering how much Professor Umbridge hates Potter. And I just love giving out detentions; it warms my cold, snake-like heart right through."

Shaking from anger and fearful anticipation, Ron took the horridly obvious hint and unclasped his fingers from the dark fabric of the Slytherin robes. Glaring at the blond from hurt eyes he spoke softly,

"What the hell are you going to have to hold against me after seventh year?"

"By then you will have accepted the inevitability of our relationship and we will be living together."

The casualness of Draco's tone combined with his slight drawl hid other emotions the blond was not willing to even consider acknowledging yet. Ron stared at him dumbly ... was he being serious? Internally, Malfoy told himself that he just wanted to watch Weasley's reaction and possibly use it as a distraction, but he couldn't banish the flutterings from his stomach that had nothing to do with arousal.

The Keeper didn't even have a chance to attempt to contain his laughter. He had to hold his stomach it hurt so bad and gasp for breath every now and again. The icy blond paid little attention to the Gryffindor's hysterics, instead opting to retrieve his wand from the floor.

"I – bwahaha ... I had no ... no idea ... you were a comedian ..."

He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

"You should go pro, seriously ..."

Draco tuned in again just in time to catch Ron's comment about comedians. Steely eyes narrowed. Although he wouldn't admit it, something inside had hurt when the redhead just laughed at him. Ron was about to discover that there were serious consequences to laughing at Draco Malfoy.


	3. In which Ron is incarcerated

_Draco tuned in again just in time to catch Ron's comment about comedians. Steely eyes narrowed. Although he wouldn't admit it, something inside had hurt when the redhead just laughed at him. Ron was about to discover that there were serious consequences to laughing at Draco Malfoy._

"I'll consider it as an option," the Slytherin stated in a tightly controlled voice. 'But in the meantime ..."

The blond flicked his re-acquired wand, muttering 'incarcerous' under his breath. The utterly pleasing result was that ropes shot out of the end of said wand, wrapping themselves around the wrists of the still slightly hysterical Keeper and lashing them to a rail that ran the length of the broom cupboard. Draco wondered what was usually hung from it then banished the thought because it was totally irrelevant. The Gryffindor yelped in surprise at the odd feeling of having his hands yanked above his head, and his amusement vanished instantly.

Pale lips twisted into a smirk and the blond stepped closer to Ron, until only centimetres separated them. The redhead looked up horrified at the sight of the restraints, he tugged at them furiously, but the bar barely wobbled. It was thick and made from hard, old, magic-enforced wood. The older, panicked boy whirled around to meet Draco's smirking face, still panting and red in the face from his laughter.

Slowly, deliberately, Draco stroked the point of his wand down the side of the redheads face, taking in the contrast between the creamy skin on the boy's neck and his flushed and freckled features. The cool tip of the Slytherin's wand on his face made Weasley shudder nervously, he wasn't sure whether he should expect hexes or not. The wand slipped under the boy's chin, resting just above his collarbone.

"Am I still funny?"

Draco questioned, his eyes glittering and hard, heart quickening a little now that he had Ron completely helpless. Malfoy grinned slowly, Cheshire-cat style. Ron gulped, the Slytherin had him trapped like his ex-pet rat.

"Well?"

The blond's voice mocked him. The Keeper tried his best to glare, but it was difficult with his stomach turning somersaults inside him.

"I'd smash you in a fair fight ..."

Was the only comment he could muster.

"Which is not a good incentive for me to fight fair, especially seeing as cunning is my strong point."

Drawled the blond.

He smirked, then muttered a spell under his breath and drew his wand down, letting it hover just above the buttons on Weasley's patched shirt. Draco felt a sense of accomplishment as the aforementioned buttons undid themselves and parted, leaving him with the pleasurable view of Ron's nicely muscled torso. Weasley's blue eyes watched helplessly as his shirt came undone.

'I must remember to thank Blaise for that spell.' Draco though, whilst running his eyes over the redheads chest and abdomen. Malfoy reached forward, and Ron took about half a step back and hit wall. The Slytherin used his wandless hand to trail slim fingers over Ron's warm flesh.

Unable to resist, Draco stepped forward, while simultaneously sliding his hand back up to the redhead's pecs. The blond leaned into the others body, absorbing his heat and the scent that was peculiar only to Ron. The freckled boy squirmed and wriggled, pulling at his restraints as the silky, thin, white fingers played with his torso.

The Gryffindor was becoming increasingly concerned about himself. He didn't feel disgusted like he thought he should. Draco ... No ... Malfoy was forcing him, against his will, and tormenting him inside a cupboard after all. But he just felt embarrassed, frustrated, and excited ... you know, the sort of excited you feel when you're about to be shoved off the ledge of a canyon without a parachute ... when you've fallen into a lake and you can't swim.

The blond did not realise that he had his face buried in the crook of the Gryffindor's neck until he unconsciously licked the flesh there. Ron gasped as the now recognisable feeling of the seekers tongue ran over his neck once again, and Draco nearly groaned as desire unwound itself from the pit of his stomach, and he convulsively bit down on the skin near his mouth. Ron cried out as Draco bit into the recently healed bruises of their previous encounter. His heart was trying to jump out of his ribcage, he had to do something! This was going too far again!

"Malfoy! ... Mal-foy" ... DRACO for Merlin's sake STOP! I don't wanna do this! STOP!"

He yelled, squirming vigorously, standing on the blonds feet on purpose.

The aforementioned blond felt a stab of excitement pierce his stomach at the sound of Ron calling out his name. Alright, so it was in panic and desperation, not ecstatic pleasure, but it was a start. Ron despaired when Malfoy did not immediately respond to his pleas. Not that he pleaded or anything ... It was more a firm command ... yes that was it.

Draco licked his way up to the redhead's earlobe, sucking on it momentarily and then releasing it only to blow cold air over the flesh. Weasley continued to flail as wildly as he could whilst shivering as the feel of Draco's tongue and breath on his hot ears forced him to release a whimper. Draco happily ignored his stamped-on feet in favour of making Weasley squirm.

"I had not realised that we were on first name terms. Please forgive me my oversight." Murmured the Malfoy.

The redhead stared in horror as he realised what he had done ... called Malfoy by his first name ... out loud ... blurted it right the hell out ... Weasley tried to cover it with a particularly sour glare. Draco rubbed the pad of his thumb in firm circles on the boys pectorals, then moved back a little, eyes traversing the flushed contours and angered set of the Gryffindor's face.

The Slytherin absently lifted his right arm from where it had been hanging by his side and used his wand to flick away some of the fiery locks that had been hanging in the redhead's eyes. Ron didn't even flinch as the Slytherin's wand came in close contact with his face, even though his knees were knocking together (had he been a dog, his tail would have been firmly between his legs and his ears flat against his head).

Draco felt certain that he must be at least a little flushed; his blood was racing through heated veins and causing certain areas to be overly-sensitized. His mouth felt especially warm, his lips somehow swollen. He swallowed, realising with mild apprehension that he had been salivating.

Sinuously, the lithe blond moved forward, snaking his right arm around Ron's neck while his other hand stayed pressed flat against Weasley's chest. Draco nibbled the boys other ear, distracting him as Malfoy slid a leg between Ron's thighs, pressing it gently upwards. Weasley's body shunted and quivered involuntarily as he was touched. Distracted as he had been by less threatening advances, Ron was suddenly snapped back to coherence as the now terrifying experience of another person sliding in between his legs brought back rather taboo recollections for the prefect and he let out a small, but very audible

"Ahh!"

His squirming had come a near deadpan stop. Malfoy released the Gryffindor's ear in favour of tasting the redhead's lips, sucking the lower one into his mouth momentarily before letting it go. The Keeper didn't even realise he was being kissed until he opened his eyes as the blond pulled away to speak again.

"I suppose that first names are allowed in intimate situations," the blond mused. "And this is most definitely one of those ... Ron."

The Slytherin said the last word with a wicked smile, whilst deliberately rocking his hips forward and his leg up, applying pressure to the captive Gryffindor's crotch.

"We're not ... I mean I'm not you – Ohh ..."

Ronald blushed furiously.

"We hate each other!" he tried to reason.

"Indeed. I absolutely ... passionately ... loathe you."

Draco breathed his words into Ron's flushed ear, punctuating them by rocking his hips and leg into the Gryffindor, the thrust almost violent in its intensity. The flustered Gryffindor let out distressed gasps as the Seeker ground into him.

"It's interesting isn't it?"

He muttered, harshly sliding his hand down the gorgeous chest.

"The way that passion and hate bleed into each other."

Draco's words burned into the Gryffindor's brain, inescapable and glaringly true.

"No they –"

The blond licked the exposed throat and slid his hand around to grope the Gryffindor's backside, pulling Ron closer to him. Weasley broke off his sentence and squeaked, embarrassed and surprised at the feel of long slim fingers on his butt, he blushed feeling ridiculously dirty and powerless. Ron just couldn't keep his face its normal colour around this lunatic.

"It gets so confusing doesn't it?"

Malfoy whispered, his voice a little rough. His right hand played on the back of Weasley's neck awkwardly, somehow still holding onto his wand. The taller boy panted, tugging futilely at his restraints, pressed flush against the blond. He shivered under Draco's lips, his words, his eyes ... his erection pressing against his own through their clothing. He moaned, deliriously thinking that what the other fifth year was doing to his neck felt awesome ... but that was wrong ... that fifth year was Malfoy. Why couldn't he just have the prospect of hiding his probable homosexuality from Fred and George to contend with? Why did it have to be MALFOY!

"I mean," Draco murmured, lips brushing the shell of Weasley's ear, "If you truly hated me, you wouldn't be hard right now."


	4. In which Draco sucks

"_I mean," Draco murmured, lips brushing the shell of Weasley's ear, "If you truly hated me, you wouldn't be hard right now."_

With that final sultry whisper the blond rolled his hips up, pressing his leg further between Ron's thighs, a slight smirk on his lips.

"That's not my ... nn ... fault you ... dickhead ..."

The Slytherin bit gently onto the redhead's neck, his hips continuously rocking as he sucked on the skin there, marking it. The Seeker's left hand tightened, pulling the other prefect closer and aligning their bodies. Small starbursts of pleasure exploded across Draco's body as he pressed them together, releasing the redhead's throat and catching his mouth forcefully, sliding his tongue inside.

Ron's mind was hazy ... and ... was that? ... yep Malfoy had his tongue in his mouth again. The Keeper's blush flared up again as Draco squeezed his backside and pulled him closer ... and he remembered his kissing lesson. It wasn't really all that difficult. You just sort of ... he moved his lips against the blond's, then froze and flushed right down to his freckled shoulders, managing to break the kiss and hide in the crook of Draco's neck, defeated and breathless.

The Slytherin let out a slight groan and pressed forward when he felt the redhead kissing back, only to be disappointed when Ron broke it off seconds later. Awkwardly, Draco slid his wand back into his holster and dropped the holster to the floor, pushing it towards a corner with one foot.

The blond stroked the fiery hair of the Gryffindor currently hiding in his neck, his hips still moving gently. The poor red-faced boy relaxed a little as the other petted him. The gentleness shocked him, as he was used to being assaulted by a rather violent little bastard. Draco bent down and lapped at the flesh where Ron's neck became a shoulder, the skin now a deep claret.

Still holding the back of Weasley's neck with his right hand, Draco drew his left hand back around to the front, circling his fingers lazily around the redhead's navel and tugging a little on the boy's treasure trail before sliding surely south. Weasley let out a sigh as the pale fingers tickled below his belly button. The deep inhalation that followed filled his nostrils up with the clean, lightly scented, snooty fragrance of Draco Malfoy ... Ron's brain wasn't working properly. He'd never particularly enjoyed what another guy had smelled like before.

After a moments struggle, and fighting the rising anticipation in his body, Draco wrestled open Ron's trousers and pressed his hand down over the Keepers erection. The blond panted open mouthed, his fingers slipping themselves around the boys cock, absorbing heat even through the material of Weasley's boxers (some small, coherent part of Draco's mind wondered if they were maroon). The Gryffindor yelped and tried to jump away as a hand cupped him through his mercifully, very un-maroon, Chudley Cannons boxer shorts. He hit his spine against the back of the closet, and was tugged into another brain-meltingly hot kiss

Malfoy groaned into the others mouth as his hand desperately touched and rubbed. Ron found that gasping, groaning and wriggling did very little to stop the sensation of having his erection fondled feeling good. Something was wrong with him. Draco's hand continued to play with the redhead's cock, finally moving back up and then diving down beneath the waistband of Ron's boxers. Weasley realised that Malfoy had slid into his underwear and he moaned into Draco's mouth as Draco moaned into his.

Flesh. Glorious, heated, hard flesh. The blond groaned, his mind blank. He knew he couldn't speak now if he tried. He attempted to breathe through the pounding in his ears and the sensation of his blood rushing straight for his cock. Slowly, Draco resumed the kiss, trying to keep it gentle as he stroked his fingers down Ron's shaft. The Keeper whimpered vulnerably. What Malfoy was doing to him was maddening enough to send his hips pressing into the blond's hand.

Draco let out a hiss of pleasure, satisfaction placing a slight smirk on his face as the redhead started moving his hips. Tightening his self-control, the Malfoy heir kept his touches teasingly light. His fingers skimmed over heated flesh, pressing down and stroking up, refusing to satisfy the other boy's captive Gryffindor writhed beneath the other's touch, his hips and shoulders twisting in protest

In comparison, the kiss was getting rougher, the Slytherin's right hand gripping copper hair as he pressed his mouth to Ron's lips in an act of demanding osculation. Ron felt his brain slowly but surely shutting down. The slight sting of having his hair pulled was there, but the rest was a fuzzy mixture of pleasure and fear.

The blond drew away, his breath harsh, eyes raking over Weasley's gorgeously flushed face, taking in the swollen lips and dazed eyes. Weasley stared back, equally as interested in Malfoy, with mussed hair and cute pink cheeks. The Keeper's mind reeled. CUTE? That wasn't the right word. Draco started kissing the boy's face, aiming for his freckles. The Seeker's mind was far too addled with hormones to realise that this action might be considered sweet.

"Shit" Ron breathed out.

Draco kissed his cheeks, sweetly.

"No ..." Ron murmured gently ... not sweetly ... it's not …

Usually icy features became slightly pinked, pale hair in disarray. Grey eyes heated up with lust. Slowly Draco wrapped his slender fingers around Ron's cock and started to move them. The Gryffindor gasped very vocally as the Seeker palmed him more firmly. The blond was dropping kisses over the Gryffindor's features; his nose, cheeks, eyebrows and then moving down to his neck and shoulders.

Malfoy drew breath heavily, and licked his heated lips. His gaze slid down to his captive's groin. The evil glint returned to those steely eyes, and he licked his lips again.

'I did decide to make it up to him' the blond thought, and it was really all the encouragement his over-heated, hormone-addled, lusty body needed for his next action.

Ron had his eyes closed. In a daze he was muttering. "Ah ... no ... no ..." softly over and over again. Breathing heavily, the Slytherin started to kiss and lick his way down the beautifully muscled torso, the fingers of his right hand trailing after. Draco could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears, urging him down. He paused, his tongue tracing the outline of Ron's faint six pack before sliding briefly into the boy's navel. Ron giggled when the Slytherin slid his tongue into his belly button and blushed immediately afterwards.

Although he would never admit it, Draco was nervous; giving head was not something he had experience in, and he did not want to mess up. Calming himself with slow breaths, the blond stroked his hands over the Gryffindor's hips, gripping onto his trousers and boxers, pulling them down redhead froze when he felt cool air hit his now bare pelvis. Momentarily forgetting he was tied up he struggled a little, bending his knees inwards in self-defence. He only discovered that he was worse off than before as now his ankles were being rendered immobile by his own trousers. The copper-haired prefect noticed Draco on his knees and gulped.

"Dr – Draco?"

The Slytherin groaned, acting on instinct before his mind could interfere. He reached up, his left hand cupping Weasley's balls as he leant over and blew air across the head of Ron's hard and throbbing penis. The incarcerated boy shivered, drawing in air sharply as the Seeker fondled him between his legs and cool air washed over the heated flesh there.

Wasting no more time, and also trying to get over his nervousness (not a feeling the Malfoy was well acquainted with), Draco licked the tip and then pressed his lips to it, sucking the head into his mouth.

"Draco what are you doing!"

Ron gasped in a panicked voice as the blond licked his erection. Malfoy could taste the other boy's pre-come, and was surprised to find that he nearly liked it. It was at least tolerable. Experimentally, Draco pushed down, taking more of Ron into his mouth and sliding his tongue along the underside. Weasley watched transfixed and horrified as it disappeared into his hot mouth.

"A – aah! Ah NO! Don't that's - "

It was too much for Ron, wet and warm. His body trembled, his breathing was uneven and interspersed with gasps.

"Dirty! – Stop! That's dirty – Ah!"

The Weasley tried to scold him but his mind was spinning with pleasure. Oh god his tongue ... what the hell is he doing with his tongue!

"Fuck ..."

He had said the last word of his thoughts out loud. The fingers of Draco's right hand tightened on the redhead's hips, his own erection straining against his tailor-made trousers. If Draco hadn't been holding onto Ron's hips he would have been involuntarily thrusting into the blond's blond tried bobbing up and down, sucking his cheeks in. The Gryffindor was gone, wantonly twisting panting and moaning, while pulling at his wrists.

Malfoy could hear Ron's incoherent babblings and moanings, each one sending shots of pleasure down his spine. Unthinkingly, the blond groaned loudly around the heated flesh filling his mouth.

Weasley tried biting his bottom lip to quell some of the ridiculous sounds coming out of his mouth. But then the Slytherin would do something blasphemous with his tongue and he would cry out against his will. The redhead was very new to this sort of attention and the tightening in his abdomen told that he wasn't going to last long.

Malfoy released Ron's cock, making a slightly obscene 'pop' noise as it left his mouth. The flushed and dazed Gryffindor whimpered in protest as the Slytherin's lips left his genitals wanting for more. Ron wanted to finish so bad by this point, he had no trouble admitting that he wanted Draco to continue that obscenely wonderful thing he was doing with his mouth.

The blond licked his way down to the base, his left hand still cupping and fondling the redhead's balls. Draco flicked his tongue over the Gryffindor's testicles, nibbling around them nearly naked boy closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall as Malfoy toyed with his scrotum. Shuddering, he inhaled slowly and deeply.

"Aahn ..."

He'd never even considered touching himself there before.

The Slytherin's mouth felt unpleasantly empty, so the he proceeded to lick his way back up to the head. Malfoy swirled his tongue around the top before sucking as much of Ron's cock into his mouth as he could manage without gagging. The redhead choked back a cry as the blond prefect took him into his mouth again. Slowly, the kneeling boy slid back up until only the very tip of Ron's penis was left in his mouth.

Unable to ignore his own arousal any longer, the blond's left hand moved away from the prefect's genitals and down to his own erection. Somehow Draco managed to undo his own trousers and slide his hand inside, moaning and panting around Ron's penis, his tongue rubbing against the salty flesh as he pleasured himself. Ron experienced Malfoy's low groans as pleasant vibrations along his penis and his spine.

As the blond listened to the Gryffindor panting and moaning above him, he could feel lust and need building up inside himself. He was hard, so very hard, and it would be shamefully easy to come at that moment; on his knees with Ron's cock in his mouth.

But Draco knew he wanted more, that he wanted to be inside the other boy, fucking him and making him scream. And he would be damned if he didn't get what he wanted!

Slowly, Malfoy drew his lips away from the swollen penis. Ronald whimpered as Draco drew away, yet again leaving him squirming in his arousal. Malfoy, having stopped touching himself, slid two of his fingers into his mouth. The blond spent a moment licking them thoroughly, his right hand gripping onto the redhead's hip hard enough to bruise. Opening his eyes curiously, the redhead glanced down to where the other young man was pulling his fingers out of his mouth.

Weasley's hip ached where Draco was gripping it and the force was consequently pinning him to the wall. The rather inhibited prefect despaired, again all he could do to protest was wriggle ... or scream ... but Ronald Weasley felt he was too gallant and masculine for such things. Again Ron despaired as he realised he'd been obviously enjoying the attention Malfoy had been giving him. 'Oh god ... I am a masochist ...'

Shifting on the floor (his knees were starting to ache), Draco started to circle his saliva-slicked fingers around Ron's entrance, pressing firmly against tight flesh. He teased the Keeper's penis with light licks and almost nibbling, abruptly running his tongue from the base up to the tip whilst sliding one finger squeaked (a very manly squeak mind you) when warm slick fingers began to slide between the cheeks of his rear end.

Squirming and clenching his butt cheeks was about all he could bloody do. Startled as he was by the action, and what he was sure would follow, the taller boy's breathing rate increased. Draco chuckled lightly at the redhead's protests, and continued to tease him with light licks and touches, his tongue swiping across the tip, then gently kissing Ron's thighs.

The Keeper gaped and gasped loudly as the other prefect teased his painfully twitching dick at the same time. The hard cylindrical portion of heated flesh relished the teasingly light attention. His sphincter gave and for the second time Draco Malfoy had his slim white finger inside him.

"Ah! No don't!" was all the dialogue the flushed boy managed to get out.

Slowly the blond began moving his finger inside the other boy, the tight heat making him pant with desire. One, member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ronald Billius Weasley was biting his lower lip and writhing in a broom cupboard. Except ... as Ron discovered very quickly, fidgeting is a very bad idea when Draco Malfoy has his finger up your arse. Gently the Slytherin started to press a second finger inside the redhead, stroking his tongue across the Gryffindor's scrotum as he did so.

"Oh shit ... haaah ..." Ron whimpered as a second digit entered him, stretching him.

For a few moments, Malfoy moved neither of his fingers, allowing Ron to adjust. He contented himself by licking and nibbling the boy's cock, balls and thigh, eventually making a lovebite on the inside of the leg. What the attractive Seeker was doing with his lips and tongue was distracting the redhead from the slight pain of being penetrated and opened up for only the second time.

Heat pooled in Draco's stomach, curling in his abdomen and weaving down through his cock. However, he had somehow regained a little control and his desire was now tempered with conscious thought and a need to possess and control. Ron felt as if his entire body was blushing, shameful and embarrassed at the whole intimate contact.

Deliberately, his tongue still teasing Ron's heated prick, the blond started moving his fingers, gently pressing them in and out of the redhead's gorgeously tight body.

Mewls of pleasure slipped from the copper-haired teenager's lips as the steely-eyed prefect's fingers pressed into the little bundle of nerves inside of him. His cheeks burned, and his legs trembled.

"Stop p-playing with m-me" he stuttered suddenly shy.

Slowly, Draco started licking and nibbling his way up Ron's body, teasing Weasley's hardened nipples, his fingers still buried inside him. The blond sucked briefly on one of the nubs before tonguing his way up to the redhead's previously abused neck. The youngest male Weasley had to bite his lip again as Malfoy toyed with him.

Purposefully, Draco sped up the movement of his fingers slightly, their bodies melded together closely. Everything this guy did made Ron feel so dirty, like he was doing something naughty. He knew gay sex was nothing to scoff at, it was more the whole Draco Malfoy thing that bothered him.

This blond manipulative son-of-a- "Ahh" –death eater sexy jerk. It was a bit late to deny it; Draco just oozed sensuality and it must have been rubbing off on him.

Malfoy asked coyly:

"Well, what do you want me to do with you?"

The Slytherin's words hit him like a punch in the face. The frazzled redhead froze, azure irises shone with confusion. What did he want? The obvious answer should have been to 'Fuck off' but did he really want him to stop? Was he being honest? Did it really bloody matter anyway!

"Umm .. un-untie me?"

he tried hopelessly, though he wasn't sure what he would do if Draco did. The Slytherin chuckled, his breath disturbing Ron's copper hair. Slowly, painfully slowly, he pressed his fingers deeper inside, panting at the sensation of heat surrounding his extremities.

"What are you planning on doing if I actually agree to untie you?"

The blond asked as he slid his fingers back out, only to thrust them in again, his tongue trailing the shell of Ron's ear. The freckled (apparent) masochist gasped and tossed in a slight panic, feeling pressured to respond.

"I – I – NNgh! I don't know!"

"So what would be the point?"

Draco questioned, his fingers now building a tortuously slow and deep rhythm. He released Ron's hip, letting his right hand skim over the straining body before him, long fingertips gliding over sweaty muscles.

Weasley's head was spinning, trying to think coherently and ignore what the perverted bastard was doing, and blond revelled in the sight of Ron's gloriously dishevelled body, the boys lips parted and panting face flushed, erect penis practically begging for attention, his nipples obscenely hardened and pinked. Draco licked his lips, grinning slightly.

In a moment of insanity, the redhead looked into Draco's eyes, and regretted it. For he could see ever so clearly what the other boy wanted from him. The floor suddenly became very interesting.

"What do you want me to say?" The restrained Keeper mumbled, wondering if this was the right thing to be asking.


	5. In which the f word is spoken

"_What do you want me to say?" The restrained Keeper mumbled, wondering if this was the right thing to be asking. _

Draco pretended to expression was endearingly cute and Ron didn't trust it for a second. The blond hooked his fingers, searching for the sweet spot. The Keeper let out a rather embarrassing gasp as his prostate was hit again, making his insides melt with want. Draco licked Ron's blushing earlobe, then murmured,

"Really, it's no fun if I just tell you Ron."

It was getting more difficult for either boy to think straight.

"Give me a clue?" he tried, keeping his eyes firmly closed, because it made him feel better about the situation in some strange way. Draco started stroking his fingertips across Ron's collarbone, sliding down his sternum.

"I'm thinking of a question ..." he murmured, rubbing his hand back up to toy with the redhead's nipples.

"It starts with an 'F' … Any ideas?" The blond growled. His eyebrows rose and fell suggestively as he pressed his fingers into the redhead's prostate again. The action caused Ron to yelp out an involuntary,

"FUCK!"

The blond smirked. He knew that it was a reactionary yelp rather than a response to his question, but his arousal didn't care and he jerked slightly in involuntary excitement.

"Well, that's a start," Draco drawled. Ron looked at Malfoy, gasping and wide-eyed.

"What? I-I mean ... you can't want me to ... I-I can't say th-that ..."

The freckled prefect was becoming more flustered by the minute just thinking about it.

"Well, that puts us in a slight predicament, because I do not intend to carry on otherwise," Draco stated, forcing his body to still, fingers simply resting inside the blushing sixteen year old.

"I ... wha ... you ...I ..." Weasley stammered in response, legs trembling.

His body was definitely protesting. Why wasn't it affecting Malfoy! Draco was staring at him. Ron shut his eyes. He could still feel Draco staring at him cat-like and expectant. Did he really want to do this? What did it mean? Draco was staring at him. Ron was crumbling under the intense pressure Malfoy was putting on him. Draco still had his fingers inside him. Swollen lips formed the words. Blue irises timidly peeked through his mussed hair into Draco's cold grey ones.

"F-Fu ... F-Fuck me ..."

And oh how Ronald blushed ...

Draco nearly came when Ron said those words; his expression timid and scared, blue eyes hazy. The blond jerked his fingers, hitting Ron's sweet spot.

"Haah! AH!"

"With pleasure," Draco ground out, voice rough with lust.

Slamming the boy's sweet spot again, Draco withdrew his fingers from the recesses of the Gryffindor's body leaving him unable to see or think straight for a also happened to make him very cooperative, and consequently made the Slytherin's struggle to disentangle Weasley's trousers from around his ankles a lot less of a hassle; Ron hardly noticed they were gone.

That done, he lifted up Ron's legs. The redhead regained partial consciousness and found himself pressed against the wall, his legs wrapped around Malfoy's waist, hands tied above his head, and wearing nothing but his shoes and his shirt, which was hanging open and doing little else.

Malfoy took a breath, calming himself; he had not intended for the encounter to go this far, and therefore had no lubricant. 'Slowly' he told himself. 'Just go slowly.'

The Slytherin pressed against Ron so that he was being partially supported by the wall, and hoped the other boy had the sense to lock his feet together behind him.

Using one hand to guide himself, Draco slowly started to push himself in. Weasley felt Draco's hard member pressing against the small pink ring of muscle between his thighs. His body gave again and the head of the blond's penis slid in painfully. Malfoy winced at the near aching tightness that was really ridiculously erotic. Ron gasped, unable to even squirm.

"Dr-Draco ...mmn!"

The freckled boy whimpered in pain. Realising that he was just drawing out the agony, the blond decided to speed things up.

"This will hurt," he warned the redhead, before slamming himself inside.

Ron barely even had time to process what the Slytherin said, let alone prepare himself. Sharp pain shot through him. He screamed, short and unrestrained. In the moments when the Seeker did not move the Keeper trembled all over. His body trying to deal with the throbbing torture of being torn. He breathed in short laboured gasps. His eyes watered and spilled over, tears running down his clenched jaw and finally dripping off his chin. The redhead looked at Draco and found he could not speak.

Malfoy was surprised to find that making Ron cry was not at all satisfactory in any way. He actually felt guilty. The blond's slightly hormone addled mind tried to come up with ways to make the redhead feel better, while his libido just yelled at him to get on with it.

Draco leant forward and started kissing Ron's face gently, feathering kisses across the boy's cheeks. Ron's trembling lessened as Draco kissed the tears from his face. Malfoy moved down, nibbling lightly on the boy's neck and then kissing over it, keeping his touches gentle while fighting the instinct that was telling him to thrust now. Weasley was trying to take long slow breaths but he whimpered in spite of himself. The freckled individual was having trouble fathoming what was eliciting such a tender response from the blond. Was Malfoy comforting him?

The blond groaned, struggling for control. He continued to drop kisses across the prefect's flushed shoulders, his right hand finding its way to tangle in copper hair, fingers rubbing against Ron's to decide whether or not Malfoy was comforting him was way too much for Ron to think about right now, he just enjoyed the gentle caressing motion of the other boys fingers running through his hair.

"Mmm, th-that feels n-nice" he murmured in a sort of daze.

Later, Draco would tell himself that he was gentle because he wanted to see the shame on Ron's face, because he didn't want Ron to be able to deny that it felt good or some other nonsense. At this moment, Draco just knew that Ron was hurting too much and that he didn't want that.

The Slytherin's breathing was harsh, his body taut with arousal. Slowly, still kissing the redhead lightly Draco started to rock his hips gently, breaths turning to gasps as spasms of pleasure sparked up his spine. The redhead returned to gritting his teeth and sputtering as the Seeker began to move inside of him. Again, he felt so ridiculously helpless. Ron desperately wanted to grip onto something. The blond continued to rock his hips gently, trying to keep himself from simply thrusting in. His fingers continued playing gently with fiery strands of hair, his lips caressing freckled redhead really wasn't processing this situation in the way he normally would.

Draco was panting, Ron was fucking tight and hot and the Slytherin was starting to have a sensation overload. The fingers of his left hand tensed, almost clenching where his hand was pressed against the wall near Weasley's head.

Malfoy reluctantly released Ron's hair to slide his fingers down the boy's body and fondle his neglected cock. The Keeper began to gasp and moan as the blond fondled him between his legs. Draco murmured in his ear to relax as he slowly stroked the Gryffindor's length, his lips finding their way to nip at Ron's adams apple. The captured boy shuddered as Draco whispered into his red ears. To his own surprise he relaxed. The pain was settling and was becoming less of a bother now.

Despite the fact that Ron's mental state was bordering on delirious, he was still able to have random insightful thoughts. Such as it must be awfully difficult for a small ferret like Malfoy to be holding him up with his hips. Weasley's body was pressed so tightly into the wall he was almost bent double anyway.

It wasn't hard to slide his legs up to rest on Draco's shoulders instead, his shoes dangling on the Seeker's back. It was brilliant to have some control over a bit of himself. The blond was surprised when he felt Ron's legs leave his waist and migrate to his shoulders, but seeing as it made it much easier to support the redhead's bodyweight he didn't care. Also, at this angle, it should be easier ...

Still peppering Ron's face and shoulders with kisses, Draco slowly drew himself all the way out. Gasping, sweat forming on his brow, he rested a moment, stroking the boy's penis. The Slytherin pressed inside the Gryffindor's body much further than before. Ron hadn't realised his change in position would make Draco slide in deeper. He yelped out a loud cry of shock and pleasure.

"Aaah!"

The redhead had little time to recover before Malfoy hit his sensitive bundle of nerves again. Draco moaned in pleasure, satisfaction registering somewhere in his mind when he realised that he had managed to hit Ron's prostate on his first true thrust. Nearly grinning, Draco drew back out and pushed in again, hitting the redhead's sweet spot and moaning at the sensation of being inside the other boy.

As other obscenely involuntary moans and cries vacated his vocal chords, Ronald lost all coherent thought processes, and started seeing stars.

Air entered and exited Draco's lungs in fast, near painful gasps. The pleasure coiling inside him almost hurt, and every inch of his body was over-sensitized, which was when the blond realised that he hadn't even removed his shirt and that the entire thing was probably soaked in sweat. As he thrust in and out of Ron's body, groaning freely and revelling in the tight heat, he really couldn't bring himself to care about possibly ruined clothing.

Delirious with desire, Malfoy kissed and licked any piece of flesh he could reach, his movements getting sharper. Ron's eyes remained as closed as he could keep them, Draco's tongue sending him shivering, creating tingles that crawled across his skin. Malfoy's fingers moved from where they had been caressing Ron's cock to stroke up the boy's torso and eventually grip the back of his neck.

The blond slammed in letting out a noise somewhere between a groan and a shout before drawing out and slamming in again. The Gryffindor's entire body was flushed with the heat it was radiating. Draco's grey eyes were softened with sex, and he could barely take in the sight before him; the fiery Weasley, his shirt hanging open, crying out and moaning, cheeks flushed and blue eyes that were hazy with pleasure and only open for mere moments when Ron was surprised.

Awkwardly, the pink-cheeked blond moved his left arm to wrap around the other's body, trying to provide some more support. Without thinking about it, the Slytherin rested his head against Ron's chest, moaning and panting as he drew out again. Draco knew he was going to come soon; his body was twanging with tension and he could feel a tightening in his groinal area. He turned his head, licking at hot flesh, and slammed in, panting, as all thought was cleared abruptly from his mind. Ron's wild hair adhered to the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his brow. Slowly, grunting with effort, the blond drew almost entirely out again before looking up.

"Open your eyes?" he said, his voice low and rough, the sentence somewhere between a statement and a question.

Somewhere in between the thrusting and the squirming and moaning and general lack of coherence that the said Weasley was currently experiencing, somewhere between all that, he heard Malfoy speak. The Keeper cracked open one eye curiously, in spite of himself.

"Wh- ... why?" he managed to croak out breathlessly.

Why on earth was Malfoy asking him to do daft things in the middle of this already blasphemous situation?

Fingers played softly with strands of coppery hair. Draco was throbbing, heated, hard and all he wanted was to slam his hips forward and come inside the gorgeous, hot tightness that was Ron's body. Except, he really, really wanted, almost needed to see Ron's eyes. Draco couldn't explain it, he really couldn't, but he needed it. Still holding himself still, his legs shaking with the iron effort it took, he asked,

"Please?"

Startled by the sudden use of manners, the redhead blinked open his eyes, which were hazy, half-lidded and dark with lust.

"Please?" was his highly insightful response. Draco would have rolled his eyes, or come up with some witty retort, except that the only thing currently occupying his mind was that he had to come soon, and he needed Ron's eyes open for whatever bizarre reason his hormones would supply. The blond somehow wound his right hand between their closely moulded bodies and stroked the tip of Ron's dripping cock. The azure-eyed captive bit his lower lip to counteract the feeling the caress brought on.

"Please." Malfoy said firmly.

Ron's penis twitched dangerously against the Slytherin's fingertips.

"O-okay," Ron consented. "I'll tr-try ..."

Draco leant forward and managed to kiss the side of Ron's neck, as his lips were a little out of the Slytherin's was a silent thank you. The Gryffindor couldn't quite manage more than a half-lidded gaze. His eyes darted around scanning for something to look at that wasn't ... nevermind. Up – his hands tied to a beam ... Down – Malfoy touching him ... Straight on – Malfoy's terrifyingly gorgeous face ... Ron settled on staring at the door over Draco's shoulder.

Metallic eyes fixed themselves to the gorgeous blue that was now half-revealed, and Draco momentarily had the feeling of drowning before he stroked his hand gently down the Keeper's cock, then pumping firmly back up and releasing it. It was all the Gryffindor could do to keep his eyes open. He panted open mouthed, clenching his fists as tightly as he could. His whole body was on fire, his penis quivering even more under the Slytherin's persistent fingers. Draco slammed into his body.

The blond saw blue eyes darken, and the way Ron's head rolled back a little in pleasure, heard the cry that was torn from the other prefect's lips. And he saw lust flaming in those watery irises.

Malfoy moaned, his body jerking out of control as he pulled out and slammed in again, his right hand moving to the wall, the fingers of his left digging into the flesh where they support the redhead's freckled body.

The blond lost all rhythm, forcing himself forward again and again, moaning, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous blue. Ron couldn't even breathe properly through Malfoy's haphazard thrusts, each one knocking air from his lungs.

The redhead's mind whirled deliriously and in that maddening moment his eyes fell onto two other cool grey ones. Draco felt his body tighten, felt waves of lust press him on as he sped up, desire and heat coiling in him as he finally slammed in deep, coming with a long moan as his eyes devoured the lust darkened azure that gazed from beneath Ron's eyelids. Ron screamed rather loudly as he orgasmed over his own chest and stomach. Mind reeling his body slacked and he hung panting and flushed.


	6. In which Draco laughs

_The redhead's mind whirled deliriously and in that maddening moment his eyes fell onto two other cool grey ones. Draco felt his body tighten, felt waves of lust press him on as he sped up, desire and heat coiling in him as he finally slammed in deep, coming with a long moan as his eyes devoured the lust darkened azure that gazed from beneath Ron's eyelids. Ron screamed rather loudly as he orgasmed over his own chest and stomach. Mind reeling his body slacked and he hung panting and flushed._

Breathing. Breathing was altogether a good thing to do. Draco concentrated on breathing, trying only to think about the oxygen entering and exiting his lungs despite his legs quivering, despite the burn of blood in his face and the odd emptiness inside where only moments ago heat and anticipation had been wound tightly together. Slowly, body and muscles shaking from the strain inflicted upon them, Ronald began to regain some coherence.

The Slytherin had at some point fallen forward, and his cheek was pressed against Ron's sweaty chest. Weasley felt the blond's hair tickle his chin. He shifted cautiously; everything hurt in the way that told him it would feel worse later. The Keeper blushed realising the Slytherin was still inside him. Malfoy knew that he should move; pull out of the redhead, clean up his clothes and figure out what to do next. But his mind was not co-operating and he had a feeling that, if he moved, his legs would give out beneath him. Most undignified.

So for the moment, Draco stayed where he was; still inside Ron, their bodies pressed flush. The mussed blond just thought of breathing, and let all else slide, just for the moment.

The blond, in his act of breathing, had inadvertently ended up breathing Ron's scent in. His usual, clean smell mingled with perspiration and the unmistakeable musk of sex. Draco sniffed deeply, loving it despite his ingrained fastidiousness. The scent drifted into his mind, teasing at emotions that he would rather not consider. And yet, he was addicted, and could not prevent himself from inhaling another, deep, lungful of the maddening smell.

The Slytherin was startled out of his olfactory musings by a weak voice from above him.

"Dra ... Malfoy ..." Ron just about got out in a small defeated voice, as he tried to elicit some sort of response from the Seeker.

Absently, Draco looked up at Ron's face, brain still clouded a little. The bound Gryffindor didn't have the energy to get irritated at the bastard's infuriating silence. The blond looked up at him dazed and a little bit flushed. Ron went pink again. How could one guy be a sleazy terrifying bastard one minute, and a blushing cutie the next? The redhead shivered against Draco, the warmth of the moment had dissipated and now he was starting to get cold. Ron tried communicating with the ferret again.

"Down ... want down ..." the feeble voice requested.

Draco blinked, his mind a little slow in processing words at that point. The blond shivered, and realised that he was cold. Something clicked internally, and the Slytherin's brain abruptly reappeared, working at full force if still a little addled.

The blond pulled out, groaning at the sensation. He drew away, letting the redhead's legs down from where they had been over his shoulders. The whole 'moving' thing, and Ron, really weren't getting along at the moment. Everything hurt, even places he'd rather not think about right that second.

Still a little confused, Malfoy glanced around and saw his wand holster on the floor. Legs still slightly unsteady, the blond retrieved his wand and returned to the hanging Weasley. Carefully, very carefully, Draco used his want to cut through some of the ropes, yanking the rest off with his hands. The ropes fell away, Ron's wrists red from all his struggling. In anticipation of the redhead probably falling over, the blond had wrapped an arm around the other boy's waist before removing the last of the bonds. Although in his current state, if Ron fell on him, Draco would probably collapse too; his body was being incredibly uncooperative and he felt strangely disconnected and oversensitised.

The Gryffindor wobbled precariously, knees trembling. His body told him to hold onto the boy beside him for support. His brain and pride told him that he was just fine on his own thank you. Draco's legs were , however, did not prevent him from being highly amused when Ron pushed his arm off and attempted to stand on his own.

Firmly, Ron removed Malfoy's arm from himself, trying not to think about how it had felt when the blond pulled out of him. He wobbled on the spot and held his shirt closed with both hands. Draco wondered if the redhead was aware of how much he was swaying and shivering, or of how ridiculous he looked standing there with his arms wrapped around his torso, naked from the waist down with his own semen adorning his chest and cock, and Draco's dripping down his leg... The Slytherin stopped that line of thought, as parts of his body were trying to respond to it and now really wasn't the time.

Struggling just to stand there, Weasley stared at the blond, not quite believing what had just happened. Standing here was already a great task in itself, there was no way he was walking anywhere.

Slowly, with almost comical care, the blond adjusted his clothes and did up his flies, then leant, panting, against the cupboard door. Ron was silently grateful for Draco's inarticulateness and bewildering lack of action. Grateful, for he would rather not let on to the callous slytherin that he had been rendered nearly unable to walk.

Uncertainty was preying on the Slytherin: he didn't know what to do now, and that was wrong. He was a Malfoy, Malfoys knew what they wanted and what they were doing, except... Except that Draco didn't know what to do, and he was unused to this uncertainty, so he simply rested against the wooden door and breathed.

Ron was also confused. Draco looked...lost...was he even allowed to get lost? At that moment, Ronald thought that he'd realised something about Malfoy, but refused to think on it further as it was none of his business. The Gryffindor glanced down to his forsaken clothing. He wondered if he'd be able to put them on without falling over or looking like an idiot. He thought his chances were slim, he'd try in a minute or so.

The redhead's wrists were stinging quite a bit from rope burn. He tenderly licked at the inflamed patches. Timidly, the freckle-faced boy looked over at his classmate. He wanted nothing more than to shy away, pretend nothing had happened, just forget about the whole thing and get on with his life. But Ron just wasn't good enough at lying to be able to tell himself that what had just happened was 'nothing'. Biting his lower lip he took a deep breath through his nose, and gave it his best shot.

"Are you okay?"

'Was that really the best thing you could come up with? Weasley...you are so lame...'

Ron reprimanded himself mentally, but it only served to remind him of Malfoy's insults...and how much more effective they were.

Draco wasn't certain that he believed what he had just heard: here he was, standing in a broom cupboard after having the best damn sex of his life, with someone who he was meant to hate, and who had seemed very reluctant to shag him, and he was being asked if he was alright. Usually, Draco would have come up with a retort; something fast and witty that would kill off any doubt that he was struggling. But at that moment, leaning against the door of a cupboard having hurt the boy who he was probably in love with, Draco felt his world plummet down around his ears.

He wasn't a fool. His parents were very good at acting pleased about the Dark Lord's presence in their lives, but he could see the stress in the way his father stood and at the corners of his mother's mouth. Years of fighting to be an heir worthy of the Malfoy name, rather than a disappointment, meant that he dared not mention this to his parents. Months of watching his friends struggling with the same trouble in silence, of guessing what the adults were going to do next and how they could survive it and desperately trying not admit to himself or others that he thought pretty much all the political ideals he'd been brought up on were wrong had worn away at him until Malfoy felt as if he was clinging onto his life by a splinter. And Ron wanted to know if he was okay.

Hysteria bubbled up and the blond sank to the floor, fighting the slightly mad laughter that was rising in his chest. At first Ron thought the hysterical Slytherin was laughing at him. The laughter came out silently, shaking Draco's entire body and making it ache. Weasley quickly changed his mind about the possible direction of the laughter as the other boy crumpled onto the cobblestone. He stared in bewilderment at Malfoy's reaction to... he wasn't sure.

The Seeker knew that no Slytherin would ever ask another that question, especially not at the moment. If you couldn't already tell what the answer was, then why were you a Slytherin? But that bloody Gryffindor just had to ask and Draco wasn't convinced that he could control himself. In the midst of his quiet hysterics one small thought pointed out that, although this was the best sex he had had, it wasn't the best post-sex bliss by a long shot.

Ron was disturbed by the expression on the usually cold boys face and even more distressed by trying to imagine something horrible enough to make him react that way. The redhead wasn't thinking. He'd stopped thinking altogether quite some time ago. Copper eyebrows were all scrunched up in remorse as he made his way down to Draco's level ungracefully. Draco's first thought was that Ron was attempting to leave and had tripped over him on the way. It was the only plausible explanation and he didn't really blame the other boy for being a bit freaked out; Malfoy was sitting on the hard floor, shaking uncontrollably and trying not to laugh, although if he didn't laugh he might cry, and the Slytherin wasn't sure which would be worse at this point.

Then Ron did what he'd done hundreds of times before whenever Ginny cried... Or Fred and George were upset. Gently but firmly, he wrapped his arms around the flaxen-haired boy, resting his exhausted head on the other's shoulder. Malfoy felt arms around him; comfortingly strong arms that were slightly blurry due to the tears in his eyes (it must be dusty in here) and that ended in freckled fingers. Malfoy gulped. It felt nice.

This was wrong on so many levels. Ron knew it was. He knew Draco didn't deserve his concern, but he gave it to him anyway. The Gryffindor was far too embarrassed to say anything, and even more tired than he was embarrassed, so he didn't pull away. Mercifully the shorter boy hadn't freaked out at the gesture.

Someone was holding onto him. Someone cared that Draco was in pain. The blond still felt as if he was choking on the emotion fighting it's way up his throat, but it didn't feel as if the world would end if he showed it anymore.

He lost the struggle to remain silent, laughing helplessly at the bleakness of his situation, at the entire world around him going crazy. He could barely breathe as the laughter racked through him, ripping out of his mouth.

Then he sobbed. Malfoy didn't even know when the last time he'd cried was. The last time he had cried in front of another person was his mother when he was twelve, and she hadn't been brilliant at the whole sympathy thing. Ron was reassuringly solid, although he also seemed half asleep. Draco turned slightly, wrapping his own arms back around the redhead and crying helplessly into his neck, feeling empty and exhausted.

Ron felt the embrace being returned awkwardly; it was as if the other boy hadn't done this very often, and now Ron was left with the very troublesome situation he was now in. He was almost too tired to care at this point, but hugging your sexual assailant and long time rival while his tears trickled down your neck did not go unnoticed easily.

The most horrifying thing however was simply that Draco Malfoy never cried (not that he did either), he couldn't even fathom Malfoy crying. Yet the evidence that he was was glaringly obtrusive. It made him sick to his stomach, and not because he thought it was gross either, but because he was having trouble imagining who had caused it. Either way he thought about it, it must have been bad.

The sobs subsided. Draco felt his eyes dry out a little, although his face was wet. The ginger boy's expression had changed to that of a sort of weary anger. The Malfoy didn't move. Timidly, Weasley rubbed the Slytherin's back, feeling for all the world like the greatest prat that ever lived. Why wasn't he just leaving? He didn't know. He just knew that he didn't want to leave anyone like this, even if he wasn't very fond of them.

Ron's shoulder was comfortable, it smelt nice and it wasn't trying to make him be anything he didn't want to be. Plus he was tired to his bones, although somehow he also felt...light. Floaty. As if something very heavy had slid away from him. In the back of his mind Malfoy knew that that feeling was not going to last, but he was damn well going to enjoy it while it did. He tightened his arms around the other boy, feeling a ridiculous urge to simply hold on and never let go. 'How completely impractical.' commented the part of his brain that was still functioning normally. The blond ignored it. The freckled boy waited. He didn't know what else to do. Eventually the other inhabitant of the closet pulled away.

It took quite a lot of effort, but Malfoy unwound himself from Ron and forced himself to look the other boy in the eye. If he couldn't do that now, then how was he going to manage the rest of the time? Ron let go the moment the Seeker did and folded his hands in his lap making sure to tug his shirt in a way that he was decent. It only took a second of avoiding the other's gaze sheepishly to realise that he was staring at him. He made the mistake of looking back.

For once Draco made no effort to hide how he was feeling. The Slytherin met the other boy's gaze with puffy eyes, messy hair and a whirlwind of emotion on his face. A lump formed in the Keeper's throat and he swallowed nervously. Draco's face looked contorted. Malfoy was scared. There were four, maybe five people in the world who had seen him unguarded. That number had just gone up one and Ron had no reason whatsoever to leave him with any dignity, although after what he had done Draco was pretty certain he didn't deserve any. He waited.

It was as if Malfoy was trying to express five things at once, but it didn't make him look any less beautiful. Normally Ron would have slapped himself for thinking something like that but he didn't even notice this time. The taller boy swallowed again not knowing what to do. The stormy grey eyes always elicited the strangest reactions from his body, more commonly the tightening of his chest, as it was doing now.

"I..." He croaked wetting his lips and clearing his throat just once.

"I don't...hate you y'know" He tried gingerly, not really knowing what to say, but he supposed it was some crazy sort of start.

"You should."

Draco felt his voice crack roughly, and swallowed. His throat felt very strange and more than a little sore. He guessed that hysterical sobbing probably did that to a person. He started utilising his sleeve to wipe half-dried tears off his face, thankful that his nose hadn't run as that would be _really_ embarrassing. Glancing down at his bare legs Ron internally agreed, but he would be lying if he said he hated Malfoy. In all honestly he felt more put out by his own fragility and naivety. He felt ashamed that he was allowing himself to be taken advantage of. He felt angry that he was being blackmailed. However, "hate" "loathing" they seemed like strong words in comparison.

The Slytherin shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, getting cold even through his clothes. He glanced at the redhead still sat next to him, realising that the other boy still had no trousers and must therefore be even less comfortable. The blond's voice brought Ron back from his musings once again.

"Aren't you freezing your nuts off there?" He enquired, in no small way trying to distract Weasley from his attempts at an emotional reconciliation; the idea terrified him, mostly because of what he might find out about himself and partly because he just couldn't understand why Weasley was being so damn nice.

He didn't want the Gryffindor to hate him, although Weasley certainly had every right to. But the idea of Weasley not hating him hung somewhere outside the boundaries of Draco's understanding of the world, and he struggled somewhat with it.

"Well...yeah. But I've um, I've had worse." He said trying to sound nonchalant.

He was freezing, and trying not to look it. 

"I suppose that's what I get for having 'The boy who lived' for a friend"

Ron smiled, also thankful for a diversion to a potentially grim situation he wasn't sure he was prepared to become at all involved in. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, although the gesture was tired and had none of it's usual venom. Somewhere in his head Weasley realised that his statement may have sounded contemptible and he rectified it quickly. 

"I don't mind though, Harry and Hermione have risked their lives for me enough times." 

He went silent again...this was getting more awkward by the minute... What in the name of Merlin's beard was he saying?

"I don't doubt that you've been in less comfortable situations than freezing your bollocks off: some of the rumours are quite spectacular. However, somehow I still imagine that a pair of trousers would improve your level of comfort immeasurably."

Malfoy stretched his legs, which were beginning to cramp, and stood up. He was grateful for the change in subject, even if nothing was back to normality yet. He glanced around the cupboard, seeing his wand in it's holster, Ron's on the floor in a corner, and the Weasley boy's trousers and underwear. The Slytherin was still uncertain on his legs, but he managed to retrieve his own wand, Weasley's wand and his clothing. The Keeper said nothing and watched as Draco picked up his things. Malfoy strapped the holster back onto his arm, and silently offered the still-seated redhead his clothes and wand.

"Thanks" Weasley muttered, taking them but not exactly certain how he was going to put them on.

His face twisted in concentration as he willed himself to stand. It was slow, wobbly and awkward but with the help of the wall he managed. He turned his back to Malfoy for a little privacy while he put his clothes back on. His legs were shaking precariously but he forced himself to remain upright. His body had numbed the pain for him somewhat so mercifully he wasn't feeling his injuries to their full extent. Draco tried not to look as the redhead got dressed, certain that any attempts at help really weren't going to go down well right now.

Ron nearly lost his balance on the second leg of his trousers but caught himself in time. He felt a little of his pride return with that done. Turning back towards the Seeker he started doing up his shirt buttons. He stared for a second at what he was still covered in. 'Its fine' he told himself mentally 'You can shower when you get back to the dorms'. Taking a deep breath he looked back to Malfoy still completely playing this by ear. The blond became aware of dried sweat and some other substances drying unpleasantly on his body. He could feel the carefully built up masks and walls returning, sliding back down to cover how he felt.

The Gryffindor had the feeling that this was his chance to leave the situation and try to forget about it. Was that really going to work? Was he even satisfied with that? He was afraid to answer his own questions but he realised with a sinking sensation that they were both going to have to eventually talk about this.

The blond should have felt relief; everything was returning to normal, Weasley would leave, they wouldn't speak about this again. Malfoy would control himself better and this wouldn't happen again. He should have felt relieved that he could think straight again, and perhaps mildly disgusted at himself for that display of emotion. Draco didn't feel any of that. He felt cold and cut off. He felt scared. Above all, he felt empty, as if a hole had been ripped through his stomach. Malfoy guarded his face, keeping it blank and trying to look bored. He didn't want to let on that he was scared.

The blond swished his wand, unlocking the door and removing the silencing spells. The free-floating light spell he had cast sputtered out on his command, and he pushed the cupboard door open, peering out into the hallway and forcing himself to stay calm. Ron panicked when Draco opened the door.

"It's empty." Malfoy drawled.

Weasley's heart shrank in fear. He wasn't ready. He didn't want to be left alone. Not yet. He didn't want Draco to leave.

"Wait!" the freckle-faced youth pleaded wrenching the door back and shunting them both into blackness.

Draco yelped ungracefully as he was yanked back into the cupboard, this time without a light spell. Just what he needed at this moment; to be alone in a dark, reasonably small space with a strangely panicked Ronald Weasley. The redhead froze in mortification. How was he going to explain this? Why did he keep doing stupid things? He wanted to run away then, but couldn't, or maybe it was 'wouldn't'.

"What are you doing you imbecile?" Malfoy demanded, irritation and surprise causing him to revert to a more usual level of acidity.

He untangled himself from the other boy, wincing as his legs complained vehemently at his movement.

"Lumos." Hissed the Slytherin, the light from his wand illuminating wide grey eyes and mortified blue ones.

Azure eyes stayed fixed on the Slytherin's shoes when they came into view. The blond breathed through his nose, attempting not to yell at the Gryffindor: he had been leaving damnit! Didn't Ron want to be left alone? Weasley's entire body shook now from fatigue and the added nervousness. A million reasons why he had stopped the other boy filled his head from all directions. Each more embarrassing than the next.

"What did you want?" The blond asked in a much calmer tone.

Weasley's mouth had gone very dry. He swallowed with some difficulty. He didn't look at Draco, nor did he say anything, the only response he could muster was to reach out and gently take hold of the blond's sleeve. The skin beneath Draco's shirt where Ron's fingers grasped felt as if it was burning. Ron's fingers trembled. He wasn't sure whether he was trying to say something or whether he was so traumatised that he just didn't want to be alone. This was bringing up more emotions that he ever thought he could express. He attempted to speak.

"Don' go..." He murmured almost inaudibly.

Malfoy barely heard what the other boy said. Never before had he thought of Weasley as being capable of whispering, but apparently he was. The redhead was shivering, and the Slytherin wondered how long it would be before they both collapsed. He struggled to function around the hole in his chest that had been left once he stopped crying. Draco twisted his left hand, not knowing what would happen if he completed the action he had just started.

Still illuminated by the shaky light of the lumos, Draco managed to manoeuvre his slim fingers around Ron's hand where it had gripped his shirtsleeve. The Gryffindor remained remarkably placid and silent whilst Draco gently took his hand.

Weasley's hand was very warm, and there were callouses on the inside and the knuckles. Ron thought it was a little weird. "Gentle" wasn't exactly an adjective he could describe the other boy with very often. Malfoy drew the solidly built boy closer until they were leaning against each other, and said nothing. There were too many words that needed to be spoken, and Draco knew he would never finish if he started talking now. So instead he just held hands with Ron and relaxed into the shadows of the cupboard.

As disconcerting as it was...it was...nice anyway...Ron thought. This could of course just be a moment of utter madness between both of them. Rubbing the back of his head awkwardly he slowly pulled his fingers away, pinking a little as they slid over Malfoy's palm.

"Thanks...I think...I think I'm okay now...and um...I should uh...I should go...Harry might get worried and he might see-...I mean he and Hermione might come looking for me..."

'See?' thought Draco. That was definitely something he would have to research later: Potter did seem uncannily good at knowing where people were a lot of the time, and it would be a definite advantage if he could discover exactly how. Weasley cleared his throat, nervously waiting for some kind of approval. He'd mentally kick himself later for acting like a dumb ass.

The blond pushed open the door and stood slightly unsteadily in the empty corridor, waving a lazy hand at Ron to show that it was safe.

Malfoy realised that he couldn't head straight back to the Slytherin common room as Theo and Blaise would notice the very distinctive smell of sex and would want to know everything. Especially after the little show they had witnessed last month that had culminated in Draco lying underneath a table giggling. No, the Slytherin common room wasn't an option right now. However, there were some perks to being a prefect. Malfoy grinned, and turned to the redhead.

"I don't know about you, but I do not intend to return to my common room smelling of sweat. The Prefects' Bathroom is not too far away. I suppose you can come if you like. You are a Prefect."

The usually hot tempered boy jumped, startled when the other spoke. He considered the blond's proposition carefully. Said blond raised an eyebrow, awaiting a response. The redhead looked a complete shambles, and Malfoy did not even want to consider the mess his own appearance must be. The Prefect's Bathroom was definitely the best bet.

The memory of what his upper torso was currently covered in was all it took to make up Ron's mind. There was never any guarantee that the common room would be empty, and even he was pretty sure that his hair was sticking up in more places than his best friend's at the moment. He really didn't want any more questions than necessary. He turned to Draco chewing on his lower lip, eventually meeting his gaze and nodding just once. He also briefly mused over whether or not he should mention that the other student's hair was mussed, just a little.

"Yeah..." He agreed reluctantly not wanting to speak too much in case he said something daft again.

Draco started walking along the corridor with rather more of a swagger than usual. This was due partly to the smugness that his plan had worked, after a fashion anyway, and partly due to the fact that his legs just weren't doing what he wanted them to. Ronald followed the other boy his gait a little off. His legs were still wobbly, the rest of him was stiff, and certain things were sore.


	7. In which there are bubbles

_Draco started walking along the corridor with rather more of a swagger than usual. This was due partly to the smugness that his plan had worked, after a fashion anyway, and partly due to the fact that his legs just weren't doing what he wanted them to. Ronald followed the other boy his gait a little off. His legs were still wobbly, the rest of him was stiff, and certain things were sore._

They were already on the fifth floor, so the journey to the Prefect's Bathroom was very short, and as Malfoy was concentrating on not falling over like some kind of fool and keeping an eye on Weasley in his peripheral vision, he did not have time to think over whether having a bath with the redhead was actually a wise idea. Ron didn't really need to look where he was going, he enjoyed using the Prefect's Bathroom as much as any of the others did. He was currently trying to figure out what to do with his hands. Nothing felt right. Everything felt awkward. He settled for folding his arms. Their destination was upon them before he'd even realised they'd ceased walking.

The statue of Boris the Bewildered appeared, as usual, bewildered, and the Slytherin moved swiftly to the fourth door on the left of it.

"Mint tea." He drawled, causing the door to swing open and reveal the view of the glorious bathroom.

The redhead was feeling skittish, even the softy spoken password made him flinch. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at Ron to check that he was still there. Inhaling deeply, the Gryffindor threw caution to the wind and followed Draco inside, shoes clicking softly against the polished marble.

Malfoy started to feel decidedly gauche, but ignored it: he might have just had some kind of breakdown, but he was still a Malfoy. He strode across the marble floor, enjoying the soft candlelight. The blond kicked his shoes off smoothly, leaving them in the middle of the room, and sat down at the edge of the sunken pool. The Gryffindor tried not to look at Draco as he followed suit and busied himself with preparing to bathe. His first priority was to snag one on the fluffy white towels from the pile.

Exhausted, the Slytherin simply twirled the taps nearest to him so that the pool began to fill. He stared through the gushing pink bubbles and foam, the quiet grandeur reminding him of home. Weasley paused a moment, towel in hand, and then decided to be nice. Much more carefully than he'd just picked up his own, now unfolded towel, his took another and held it bluntly out to the other boy. He didn't say anything. He still didn't trust what he might say.

Lost in thoughts of the abomination inhabiting Malfoy Manor, and longing for the time before his family played host to You-Know-Who, Draco nearly forgot that Ron was there, his head sinking into his hands. He nearly jumped when the hot water rose enough to touch his feet. Remembering what they had actually come here for, the Slytherin swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Draco noticed the towel by his side, dumped there by Ron when he failed to realise it was being offered. Another surprisingly nice gesture.

Facing the wall, Weasley began removing the apparel he had so hastily donned before. He started from the top and went down, beginning with the first button resting atop his clavicle. Malfoy stood, stretching his arms above his head in what was nearly a yawn. He bent down to turn the taps off, trying not to be obvious about the fact that he was feeling oddly self conscious. However, the taps off, there was nothing left but to actually bathe.

The redhead felt absurd, but this whole situation was absurd in the first place. Getting clean so he didn't smell of sweat and... He cut off his own thought track and replaced what he was originally going to think about with the word 'Slytherin'. Not looking at Ron, and certainly not blushing, the Seeker undid his trousers and dropped both them and his underwear to the floor.

The pleasant aroma of the perfumed soaps calmed Ronald; he closed his eyes just for a moment and breathed, trying to let gentle, flickering, light and warm air clear his mind. A splash echoed around the room. Weasley paused in confusion, turning to be met by a pile of clothes: wanting nothing more but to get into the bath swiftly, the blond had dived gracefully from the edge into the warm, bubbly water.

'Odd'... Ron thought, trying to think about anything but the fact that Draco Malfoy was naked, 'I always thought he would have folded them first'. 'Besides...why should him being naked even matter? Its not like you didn't KNOW or anything... No you quite pleasantly agreed to this you idiot so suck it up and get in the bath...'

Malfoy swam underwater for a bit, enjoying the calming silence. The Gryffindor's face had gone quite red and he looked huffy with himself. He'd kicked his trousers off and was mercifully sat on the edge of the tub, legs dangling in the hot water, by the time the blond's lungs started burning and he resurfaced. The last thing he needed was for Malfoy to see how difficult it had been for him to sit down.

Draco gasped for breath, looking around to see where the Gryffindor had got to. Ronald was transfixed for a moment by the sight of a topless, wet, Draco Malfoy pushing his hair out of his face. The Slytherin was still trying to tell himself that he wasn't guilty, but it was barely convincing even inside his head.

Weasley swallowed guiltily and slid himself into the foam hissing. It felt amazing after the initial sting in the places where he'd been injured. He also dunked his head in the warm water and let out a sigh, that bubbled comically around his submerged fiery hair; a sight that the blond snorted at.

Draco lolled back into the water, relaxing his aching muscles and soothing irritated nerves. The bubbles were so thick that if he kicked his legs out and spread his arms he could simply float. The Malfoy did this now, his hair getting covered in vivid green foam in the process. The chandelier flickered above him, and the Slytherin felt dangerously relaxed; not a sensation he was used to experiencing near other people.

Ron sank to the bottom, his back resting against the floor. He still felt agitated and unsettled inside, although the water was very calming. The redhead clamped his jaw shut and held his breath, something he found oddly calming.

Draco glanced over to the side, checking to see if Weasley was still submerged. He felt slightly concerned when he saw that the other boy had not surfaced, and Malfoy proceeded to roll over and dive under the water. He opened grey eyes and peered around, a trick he had perfected due to boring afternoons and too much access to a bath as a child.

The Gryffindor was a pale blur topped with red at the other end of the Prefects' Bath, apparently lying on the floor. Ron had his blue eyes closed, and was almost relaxed when Draco had a moment of absolute panic. Malfoy felt his chest seize up in pain. What the hell was that boy doing? The blond was at the other end of the pool before his brain had time to intervene, grabbing the other boy and dragging him above the water. Ronald experienced a moment of mad, wet, Draco induced, panic

"Merlin's saggy balls! Were you trying to drown yourself?" Demanded the prefect.

As his alarm subsided, the taller of the two pushed his sopping hair from his eyes. He was originally going to yell 'Don't be a prat! Why the hell would I be drowning!' just to return somewhat to normality. It was Malfoy's face that stopped him. He looked concerned, worried even. About what? About him? The youngest Weasley brother realised he'd been staring and sheepishly averted his gaze, folding his arms defensively across his solar plexus.

"Of course not..." He said in a low and gentle voice. "I was just trying to calm down."

Draco realised that he had been holding onto the other boy, and let go quickly as the redhead spoke. A lock of fiery hair succumbed to gravity and fell back into Weasley's face as he dared a small, timid glance at the blond. The Gryffindor decided that he'd had enough of feeling this awkward. He was a Gryffindor for fucks sake! It was about time he acted like one! Despite his inner pep talk his voice still wavered as he cracked his poor attempt at humour;

"Didn't think I'd ever come across as sensitive enough to commit suicide."

He managed a small grin. Draco snorted eloquently at that comment.

"After five older brothers, Harry Potter, and a Mum like mine... You don't go down easy!"

He laughed once, cleared his throat and rubbed one of his arms nervously. Draco tried not to get distracted by counting freckles as he replied.

"Sensitive? Hardly. I merely thought that perhaps no-one had bothered teaching you to swim."

Draco quirked one eyebrow. He was smiling when he said that, a smile that bordered on a smirk but a smile nonetheless. Ronald's grin got ever so slightly bigger than it had been last time. He mused that usually, when Malfoy picked on him, the remarks were sharp and cold; like being stabbed. This however was more along the lines of a playful shove. Very uncharacteristic.

The Slytherin's voice had remained casual, as if he were not having a nearly civilised conversation with someone that most of the school would be quick to point out was his arch-enemy, second only to Potter. Moreover this conversation was taking place naked in a bath, a fact that, despite years of Slytherin subterfuge and careful emotional control, Draco was finding increasingly hard to ignore.

"I can swim just fine... Fred and George taught me the hard way" He nearly laughed at the memory but quelled it and busied himself with actually washing so it didn't appear so much like he was just having a nude, candlelit, conversation.

If any of the other prefects walked in on them or something Merlin only knows what they would have thought. What else could it possibly look like? Or maybe it was just what it looked like.

"They did what? Pushed you into a stream?"

Draco couldn't help sounding curious: he had always wanted siblings and his parents had been less than obliging on that front, although now that he was older he suspected it wasn't because they had not wanted more children.

"More or less." The older prefect commented in the midst of scrubbing his hair.

The Slytherin made an attempt to at least look as if he were washing; in reality he was too busy imagining the evil Weasley twins pushing Ron into a river. The image was disturbingly comic and reminded him of the first time he had discovered that Theo had a sense of humour: it was odd, but it somehow worked.

"It was more along the lines of flying me over a pond and dropping me in. The punishment they got for that one was worth the traumatic experience though." Weasley smirked mischievously, his expression reliving the sweet flavour of revenge.

The silence unnerved him so he allowed his voice to break the quiet again. Malfoy started washing his hair as the redhead spoke.

"They keep insisting they only try to kill me because they love me." With that the Gryffindor began rinsing the suds from his upper torso.

The blond couldn't help laughing at the last comment; it sounded exactly like the type of nonsense that Blaise spouted when in the grasp of a ridiculous mood, although those ridiculous moods only manifested themselves in privacy, usually around Theo.

"I always wanted a little brother." He mused, before ducking under the water in an attempt to get rid of the suds, surfacing again swiftly. The redhead paused at the revelation, a little shocked.

Draco felt happy and more than a little silly, although he was increasingly aware that he was going to have to leave the bath and get back to Slytherin and the rest of his less-than-lighthearted life soon. The Keeper shifted his gaze to the other boy as he resurfaced. Ron swallowed and decided to keep the chatter light-hearted.

"Whatever you do...just don't get a little sister... They're evil. They tattle on you for the first seven years of their life... and then spend the rest of it hogging the bathroom."

Regretfully, Draco glanced towards the towels discarded at the side of the bath. The blond's glance did not go unnoticed by the taller of the two. He had been looking that way as well. He made a move and reached for one of the towels, still musing whether or not there was any way that he could leave the safety of the water and still look dignified. Draco saw Weasley grab one of the towels, and decided that it was time to leave this bizarrely pleasant situation. Ron's brow crinkled as he concentrated more fully on his predicament.

"I suppose I can't comment on that, although looking at my mother's sisters I might be inclined to agree about their maliciousness." The Slytherin spoke as he swam to the edge, then hauled himself out, water dripping off his body.

He picked up the remaining towel, rubbing his hair semi-dry before towelling the rest of himself off and casting about for his clothes and wand.

Apparently in his haste to bathe he had left them strewn across the floor: most uncharacteristic, and slightly irritating when trying to get dressed. He pulled his underwear on whilst trying to decide if a 'scourgify' would be enough to rid his clothes of the distinctive scent clinging to them and reached for his wand to cast a cleaning spell, at least over his shirt.

Taken aback by the sudden noises and the sight of the unclothed form of Malfoy, Ron did the only sensible thing he could think of; he swore.

"Shit Malfoy!"

Weasley spun away using his hand as a blinder. He followed suit albeit slower, more clumsily, and with a lot more modesty. He'd barely gotten to his feet before wrapping the towel firmly around his waist, all the while exclaiming his qualms.

"You don't have any problems walking around starkers do you? Merlin! Do you do that in your common room? Must give the first years heart attacks..."

Ron wasn't aware that his cheeks had visibly pinked again. Even if he was he wouldn't have been able to explain why. His brain was just not prepared to accept the implications yet. Trousers yanked on and one cleaning spell short of a shirt, the Slytherin replied in his usual drawl.

"No Weasley, I do not walk around the common room naked. The dormitories though..." The blond allowed his sentence to tail off, quirking his eyebrows suggestively.

The freckle-faced boy made a face that clearly stated that he didn't believe a word the Slytherin was saying. Ron opted for shaking his head madly, like a dog, to rid the excess water from his hair. It was getting long again, his mother would no doubt demand that he cut it. The redhead was still entertainingly pinked, and Malfoy idly wondered if it was a genetic trait that meant Weasley's flushed more than was strictly normal.

The Gryffindor then proceeded to slide his trousers on without putting his underwear or shirt back on. He bundled his other sullied clothes up and draped the towel around his neck to offer his chest some sort of covering. Then he stood there, bewilderingly, waiting for the other prefect.

Malfoy straightened up, shirt in hand, only to notice Ron's rather amusing idea of getting dressed. He raised an eyebrow.

"You intend to walk back to your common room like that?" He asked, not really complaining: Weasley's chest was very... defined.

"What do you intend to do if one of the teachers catches you? You'll have to explain why you're out after hours and what happened to your clothes."

"I don't intend to get caught. Its after curfew, damned either way. Besides I'm not putting this back on."

He held his own shirt out in front of him, looking at it as if it could bite. Weasley suddenly remembered about that conversation that they needed to have with a sinking feeling. He cleared his throat waiting to see if Draco had some snide comment before he brought the subject of conversing like civilised people up. The blond shrugged, scourgifying his shirt and sliding his arms into the sleeves.

"The Golden Trio sneaks around the castle enough that I suppose you can get to the common room without getting caught. And you are a wizard, in possession of a wand. A dirty shirt shouldn't be that difficult to deal with."

Draco did the buttons up, picking up his holster from the floor and strapping it back onto his wand arm. The redhead made a disgruntled face at the offending garment.

"Oh yeah... Sure it works for you...all yours has got on it is sweat."

Ron pouted a little not wanting to admit that he didn't like cleaning spells all that much. He'd never found them as interesting as...other magical artforms. Draco avoided looking at the redheads face, knowing that he wanted to lose himself in it; lose himself in the freckles and the warmth that the other boy seemed to exude.

Malfoy knew that he couldn't, not right now. Maybe never. He had to go back to his friends and family, and Weasley didn't fit into that. Angrily, he wondered how much of his life this war was going to fuck up. The Keeper suddenly realised what he'd said and what exactly else was on the shirt in question and the pink in his cheeks went dangerously close to red.

Malfoy straightened and forced himself to sound businesslike.

"Best get going. Any later and the Toad will be patrolling. I have absolutely no desire to get caught by her."

Weasley silently agreed with Draco about Umbridge, but was also surprised at how unapproving he sounded of her. Didn't he like her? The thought was driven from his head as quickly as it had arrived there.

"Mal...Draco!" He called in an attempt to halt the other boy's motions.

It was time to man up. Assert himself in this mind-boggling situation even though he had no idea what exactly it was leading to. The floor was abruptly very interesting again. He wasn't sure whether he had Malfoy's attention or not. Draco had started walking towards the door, and had his fingers on the handle when he was brought up short by Weasley yelling his name. His heart thumped in his chest hearing it spoken in the redhead's voice. He understood the following mutterings far better than he would have liked, feeling his chest tighten.

"We um... we need to...um...talk. Not now! But I..."

Ronald trailed off losing his nerve. He hoped to Merlin that Draco had comprehended that hastily mumbled string of words.

The blond felt his face freeze and his usually unending supply of witty retorts die in his throat. What on earth could he say?

"I.. yes. I suppose.. considering... Very stupid of me.. We should."

The Slytherin was babbling; a completely undignified and idiotic action. He stopped himself with some effort. Ron didn't know how to respond to Draco's stuttering and acknowledgement that he had done something "stupid". He'd never seen it happen before. He didn't think Draco was capable of it.

Malfoy's heart was still pounding a staccato against his ribcage, part hope and part terror. Hope because after everything, Ron didn't hate him. Terror because he had realised that even if Ron didn't hate him, even if Ron would consider some kind of _anything_ between them, it was impossible. There was no way Draco was going to be responsible for dragging the redhead any closer to You-Know-Who than he already was, and considering that the aforementioned snake-like abomination was currently lording it over at home and had his entire family in his grasp, Draco realised he couldn't risk it. He cared too damn much to pull the redhead further into that.

'Come to think of it,' thought Ron, 'maybe he's as embarrassed as I am.' The taller prefect didn't have long to dwell on the matter.

Malfoy looked up at Ron's face, at the freckles and the hopelessly embarrassed expression, and finally admitted in the privacy of his own mind that he was definitely in love. He took a breath, twisting the handle of the door behind his back.

"I'm sorry." Draco said.

And then he ran, sprinting down the hallway and away before he could become any more embroiled in this mess, hurting and trying to console himself with the fact that at least Ron would be safe with Potter and Granger and his family, and not wasting his time on the child of a renowned Deatheater.

Ronald didn't try to stop him as the Slytherin fled down the corridor; he was still struggling to walk normally, much less run. A tightening sensation spread through his chest and he inhaled deeply, trying to quell it. The silence was thick around him in Malfoy's absence and he was left with a strange emptiness.

The ginger snorted at himself, he really was pathetic. Laying a hand across his eyes he tried not to think about what had just happened, or about the talk that he (bizarrely) wanted to have. It shouldn't have been important to him, but it was, and he wasn't sure precisely why. Did he like being around Draco? Was he yearning for a friendship that he fundamentally shouldn't want in the first place? Exhaling heavily he allowed his arm to drop limply to his side and mocked himself quietly.

"Or maybe I really am a masochist..."

He slowly and reluctantly began the journey back to Gryffindor tower and wondered if he'd ever be able to get the flaxen boy's face out of his head ever again.


	8. In which nobody lies

_He slowly and reluctantly began the journey back do Gryffindor tower and wondered if he'd ever be able to get the flaxen boy's face out of his head ever again._

Draco did not stop running until he reached the cool familiarity of the dungeons, his pace slowing to a respectable stride. He forced himself to breathe properly, telling himself that the burn in his chest was simply a result of the freezing air inhabiting the stone corridors. The prefect stared at the wall for a moment, surprised to find himself struggling to recall the password.

"Hinkypunk." He stated in a tone of voice that nearly sounded calm, and entered the corridor that led to the Common Room.

A few people were still around, though most of the dark green chairs were empty. Fish lazily swam past the underwater windows; silhouettes in dark water.

Feeling frazzled, Malfoy decided to find one of the very few people he truly trusted. Vincent and Gregory were alright, and a lot of their idiocy was simply for show. Draco trusted them as goons, but not as friends. The feeling was mutual. It was Theodore Nott that Malfoy was looking for.

The weedy Slytherin was hunched over a Charms essay, scribbling in cramped writing, by one of the glowing green fires. Malfoy glared at a nearby first year until she left, and slithered into the nearest chair. Theo did not even look up, dirty blond hair falling in his face.

Knowing his friend well, Draco waited until the other boy finished a paragraph and put the scroll aside, using the time to cast a few anti-eavesdropping charms; this being the Slytherin Common Room, people would listen in if it was possible. Theo looked up, brown eyes focused on Draco. He cracked his knuckles and leant back in his chair, eyes absent-mindedly scanning the Common Room.

"You have a problem." His voice was as reedy as his build, and Draco didn't bother questioning how he knew; the two had been friends since the age of four.

"Unfortunately, I do." Malfoy rubbed a hand across his eyes, feeling tired.

Theo nodded, and shuffled his chair around so that they were blocked from the view of the rest of the room. The other boy cast one or two of his own spells before talking again.

"What is it? Aside from the blindingly obvious one." Nott was probably one of the few Slytherins that would dare refer to Voldemort's presence as a problem, even to a friend. The white blond boy sighed, then made himself talk.

"I find myself in the position of being … rather enamoured of Ronald Weasley."

Nott was quiet, considering things.

"I suppose you didn't behave like a rational human being and attempt to talk to him first?" Theo asked.

"No, I became quite irrational."

"Ah."

"One could say unpleasant."

"How unpleasant?" Theo was watching his friend worriedly. Draco looked up, grey eyes clouded.

"Coercive."

"As in, you once again blackmailed him into shagging you?" Occasionally, Slytherin subtlety had to be put aside.

"Yes." A swarm of feelings descended over Malfoy and he sat upright, eyes blazing, as he hissed out a very quiet rant.

"He doesn't hate me! He said that he doesn't hate me but he should, shouldn't he? After what I did, that's hardly forgivable. I don't want him to hate me but nothing else makes any sense! I want him to be with me! I hate it when he even looks at other people and he's a complete idiot with his ridiculous red hair and his infuriating family! He just follows Potter around like a puppy when anyone can see he's capable of so much more.

"I want to be nice to him, but whenever I see him it's like my nerves just start jangling and all I want is a reaction. I can't help it if his reactions are cute. And he asks questions! He actually asked if I was alright! Me! After I … After I assaulted him!

"I'm so tired of lying all the time. I am tired of pretending to hate muggleborns on principle, I'm tired of my contradictory family. All these rules! Malfoys get what they want, Malfoys don't bow to other people, Malfoys are better, Malfoys don't associate with anyone who is less than pureblood! All the while my parent's kowtow to a half-blood maniac, and the only person I really want is a Weasley and male, which would go down a treat with my Father I'm sure!"

Theo listened attentively, waiting a moment as the slightly flushed blond recovered, then asked:

"Do you just want him, or is there more?"

Draco turned intense eyes on his friend.

"The only reason I'm not going after him is because that would put him closer to the Dark Lord. I'd take an Unforgivable for him."

Nott reached out a hand and put it on his friend's arm, aware that the other boy had experienced at least one Unforgivable Curse. Malfoy said nothing, attempting to process the level of emotion that Weasley brought out in him.

"You never go for half-measures do you?" He asked, a slight smile in his voice. "You couldn't just fancy the pants off him."

"Believe me, if I could change it to just being that …" The prefect sighed and put his head in his hands. His voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "I'm completely fucked aren't I?"

"Definitely." Agreed Theo. The stringy fifth year pushed unruly hair out of his hair, his face taking on a serious expression. "Try to see it from a Gryffindor point of view."

"Please, isn't that the type of thing we leave to Blaise?"

Nott snorted and continued.

"Weasley isn't exactly subtle. Maybe you should just tell him?"

"I can imagine that conversation going brilliantly. 'Good morning Ron, just thought I'd tell you that I'm madly in love with you. By the way, You-Know-Who is currently living in our guest bedroom and I have at least one insane family member.'"

Theo sighed and shrugged with one shoulder.

"You are probably fucked Draco. Either you keep your family safe and end up a good little Death Eater and probably have to fight the person you're in love with, or you defect and leave. No worries about you, Dumbledore would welcome you with open arms. But that leaves your Mother and Father in the hands of one very angry Dark Lord."

"What do you intend to do when He tries to recruit you?" Asked Draco. Theo shifted uncomfortably.

"I figure we have until we're seventeen; He's not known to recruit underage. I intend not to be there: it's not as if there's any love lost between me and Mr. Nott."

Draco had never once heard Theo refer to Mr. Nott as Father, and the venom that the boy put into the name implied something stronger than indifference.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and Potter will kill the Dark Lord before I turn seventeen."

The sarcastic tone of voice suggested that Malfoy did not think the possibility of this occurring was very high.

Theo began tidying up his scrolls, talking at the same time.

"Well, you've probably got a year before you're seriously asked to go one way or the other, but honestly? Your choices are going to get smaller all the time. Consider actually telling Weasley: imagine what a moron you'll feel like if you die without telling him."

"Or if he dies before I tell him."

"Or that."

The high pitched shriek of a Third year distracted the two boys from their rather depressing conversation. They turned into the Common Room to discover what the commotion was about; Blaise Zabini had just walked out of the dormitories wearing nothing more than a towel. The towel was wrapped around his hair.

He stood, dark body dripping from a shower, in the centre of the green themed room with his hands on his hips. Completely unembarrassed, the gorgeous Slytherin spoke loudly in a melodious voice that nevertheless promised doom upon someone:

"Whoever thought it was a brilliant idea to pour stinksap over my favourite shirt and second favourite trousers while I was showering can either admit to it now and simply buy me new clothes and get hexed once or twice, or they are going to suffer a very painful few years at this school and beyond."

Utter silence greeted this declaration. Smouldering eyes burnt into everyone in the room.

"Very well. I shall find out who you are and revel in your slow destruction. Prepare for pain."

The completely nude boy stalked angrily over to where Theo and Draco were sat, ignoring the whimpers of those less used to his antics and the whistles of those who were. He slid gracefully into the chair next to Draco, legs thrown open in a stance more typical of teenage boys who were actually clothed. Blaise yanked the towel off, discarding it to the floor, and muttered a charm over his own head. Curly hair began to plait its way into tight cornrows.

"The nerve of some people." He muttered.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Theo simply laughed out loud, the tension of the evening temporarily dispelled.

"What?" Demanded Zabini.

Theo continued to laugh and Draco just shook his head, grateful for his ridiculous friend. Malfoy suspected that without Blaise, both he and Theo would have given into eternal cynicism some years ago.

"Nothing Blaise, nothing at all."

Ron wasn't really expecting anyone to be in the common room when he got back. Everyone was feeling a bit low so they tended to sneak off to their dorms earlier than usual. Even Lee Jordan had been turning in early, partly out of irritation at Umbridge and partly because the outspoken boy was lonely without Fred and George there to mess around with. In hindsight he should have known better than to put his faith in luck.

The prefect climbed gingerly through the entrance, mindful of his injuries, and was met worriedly by Harry and Hermione. He would have smiled if Hermione's fretful expression hadn't turned indignant; he probably had the best friends on the planet.

"Ron what HAVE you done with your shirt?" The bushy haired girl inquired forcefully.

The redhead winced, glancing at his empty hand. It was official, he was the biggest moron to have ever graced Hogwarts.

"Uuuuhhh..." He didn't know what to say.

Thankfully Hermione was full of more questions than she was reason.

"Never mind that now though... where have you been? Harry was only just able to get the map out but you'd already made it back!" She seemed somehow disappointed.

The prefect decided to opt for the truth, even if it was only part of it.

"I was taking a bath." Yes, that wasn't so unbelievable. Or at least that's what he thought until he saw the look they were both giving him. He cleared his throat and went on.

"I was feeling really stressed out." That wasn't a lie. Just because he didn't say the exact reason why he was stressed out didn't make it untrue.

"So I took a bath to relax and calm down." Also not a lie. They didn't need to know what he'd been going to wash off and that he wasn't alone.

"And I sort of lost track of the time." Nothing but the truth. Even if the person he'd lost track of the time with was unwelcome by any stretch of the word. Even though he'd stood there for five minutes completely perplexed and was still unable to get the person in question out of his mind.

"I'm sorry I made you both worry." And he was. They seemed to buy the story.

"Umbridge has been doing my head in too." Harry sympathized. His right hand was immersed in a bowl of Murtlap Essence; Potter was once again suffering the results of a detention with Professor Umbridge

"Yes, well, its fine that you wanted to relax and all." Herminone scoffed. "But honestly, what if Umbridge had caught you out after curfew?"

"As if we've never snuck around after dark." The bespectacled boy interjected playfully. She seemed to take it as a challenge.

"Yes, and you've been caught Harry Potter! Even when you had the map!"

The raven-haired teenager was about to retort when Ron cut in instead of picking on Hermione like he normally would.

"Hey uh... I'm really tired so I'm gonna head up to bed. Thanks for waiting up for me."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Harry said, Hermione's expression saying the same thing.

"Yeah... 'course I am. I just want to um... rest up so I can study for my O.W.L.s." It was honestly the only thing he could think to say. Harry raised a sceptical brow but, as expected, the study zealot was overjoyed at the thought that he might do some revision.

"Very funny Ron...but really are you feeli-" Harry began but Hermione snapped at him.

"Of course he is! Finally seeing some sense if you ask me. Now off to bed. Best idea I've heard all evening."

Ron wasted no time and started up the stairs muttering a weary "G'night" to the two of them. The emerald irises of Harry's eyes followed Ron up the stairwell. He rubbed his face, pondering. Something obviously wasn't sitting right with him. The chestnut-eyed girl noticed this and scolded him.

"Harry, he's FINE. He said himself he's just tired and he-" Harry cut her off.

"Hermione?" He looked at her brows furrowed, as if he wasn't quite believing something. That look was enough to pique anyones' curiosity.

"Yes?"

Harry was looking increasingly baffled.

"Ron he...I mean It sounds daft but I'm sure I saw-"

"Harry..."

"But where on earth did he GET them?"

"Harry!"

"Oh right sorry...I think...I mean... that is to say..."

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I think Ron had love-bites" The scruffy-headed boy said the last word in a low voice as if there was someone in the room to hide it from.

"Why on earth would he have hickeys?" The girl looked as if she believed her friend but she also looked as if she wouldn't truly believe it until she saw it with her own eyes.

"Who on earth would even give him hickeys?" She seemed to run the various possibilities through her mind, and also seemed to disapprove of every single one.

"In any case I'm sure Ron wouldn't keep something like that from us. You'd think he'd be gloating if that were the case! Anyway goodnight Harry. You should get some sleep too. Ron isn't the only one who needs to study you know."

She gave Harry a pointed look before marching off towards the girls' dorms. The boy-who-lived shrugged and withdrew his hand from the soothing bowl of liquid before walking back to their dorm room. Everyone else seemed to be lounging about or quite soundly sleeping, so Potter simply climbed into bed and settled down.

The freckle-faced teenager pretended to be asleep until Neville finally turned the lights out. Even then his mind buzzed with the events that had come to pass that evening. Ron had more questions in his head than he could beat a bludger at; predominantly how he was going to handle seeing Malfoy tomorrow morning at breakfast. His eyebrows furrowed as he rolled onto his side. All he wanted to do was sleep. Eventually his wish was granted but not before his mind had replayed certain fragments from earlier that evening back to him and he had shifted uncomfortably for half an hour. Only then did he drift into an exhausted and mercifully dreamless slumber. His last conscious thought being 'I wonder if Malfoy's sleeping already.'


	9. In which Snape is disturbing again

_The freckle-faced teenager pretended to be asleep until Neville finally turned the lights out. Even then his mind buzzed with the events that had come to pass that evening. Ron had more questions in his head than he could beat a bludger at; predominantly how he was going to handle seeing Malfoy tomorrow morning at breakfast. His eyebrows furrowed as he rolled onto his side. All he wanted to do was sleep. Eventually his wish was granted but not before his mind had replayed certain fragments from earlier that evening back to him and he had shifted uncomfortably for half an hour. Only then did he drift into an exhausted and mercifully dreamless slumber. His last conscious thought being 'I wonder if Malfoy's sleeping already.'_

The splendid Prefects' Bathroom stands in serene silence, the bubbles floating up towards the chandelier as the water flowed down the drain. In the absence of the two fifth year boys, the room is quietly peaceful and devoid of life.

Then one of the curtains hung over the extensive windows chuckles in a dry, acerbic tone. It is pushed aside to reveal the slender form of the Potions Master, wearing his usual bat-like robes and a very unusual grin. He sweeps across the marble floor like a suave thunderstorm, pausing to retrieve something from the floor.

The following morning, the Golden Trio arrived at their potions lesson a mite earlier than they had initially intended.

"I told you there was no need to rush Hermione." Weasley grumbled out his complaint upon seeing the student-less classroom.

Granger pouted and stuck her nose in the air in the opposite direction from the redhead. Potter snorted and put his arms around the both of them.

"Come on guys, it's too early. Quit your whining Ronald! We all know good and well that Hermione was just excited to turn in her essay before eeeeveryone else." He grinned at her.

She didn't look quite as pleased as he did. All the while they had been taking their time entering the classroom, still a good fifteen minutes early. The green-eyed celebrity caught something white in the corner of his vision.

"Hey Ron, what's that on your desk?" He inquired.

The lanky prefect looked up, curious, and made his way over to his space, pursued closely by his friends. He lifted the object from its resting place looking confused.

"Its a shirt..." He stated.

Realisation hit him and he stiffened, fumbling with it until he could see the tag inside the collar. His heart sped up in terror.

"Its my shirt..." He managed in a surprisingly normal voice.

Ron didn't have many shirts; his parents couldn't afford too many for each of them. The only explanation was that this was the shirt he'd forgotten in the Prefects' Bathroom. Hermione voiced his initial concern.

"What's it doing here?" She sounded perplexed.

'More importantly,' mused the freckled boy internally, horror washing over him, 'why is it clean?'

At his desk at the front, Severus Snape marked a red 'T' at the top of an essay with a little too much glee. Harry, looking between the unusually chipper Potions Master and his love bitten friend, took in the shirt left on Ron's desk, and made exactly the wrong assumption. The boy-who-lived crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

The End

(for now...)


End file.
